Chapter 1:Public Humiliation
It was the eve of our one year anniversary. We had seen each other exclusively for the past year and I thought it was an appropriate time for a gift. Not just merely any gift, mind you, but a “real” gift. Something that forced me to sacrifice. No, I wouldn’t be able to get that new car any time soon, but “the hell with it,” I figured. Women like Kristen don’t come along very often.
We were in the middle of our Caesar salads when I took it from my inside coat pocket and put it gingerly on the table next to Kristen’s wine glass.
“Por moi?” Kristen chirped, feigning innocence.
I never bought anything with diamonds before in my life. But Kristen, I thought, was special.
“Timmie, it’s beautiful,” she beamed, her cobalt blue eyes wet with victory.
“It just means that you’re important to me, Kristen. It’s a sign of my commitment. It means that our relationship is serious to me.”
“Commitment?” Kristen whispered. “What do you know about commitment?”
An odd question, I thought, spoken just a bit belligerently. Kristen took a sip of wine and brushed a lock of her black hair from her forehead.
“I’m fond of you too, Timmie, but perhaps I’m not as sure as you. I like my men to go the distance, so to speak, for me, and a tennis bracelet, while nice, isn’t really much of a test.”
“A test?” I answered. “Is that what you want me to take to prove that I’m committed to you in this relationship? I didn’t give you the gift to bribe you. I did it to prove my devotion to you.”
She looked at me with those wicked blue eyes of hers. Kristen definitely had the streak of the devil in her. Her soft lips curled up into a smile, or was it a snarl?
The waiter returned with our dinners. Kristen ordered the swordfish, I had the petite filet mignon.
“You may take the doggie’s dinner and put it in a gentleman’s bag. Oops, now that’s embarrassing! I should say…well, never mind. You get the idea.,” Kristen interjected, surprising both me and the waiter.
“Right now? Will you be leaving early?” the perplexed young man asked.
“No, we’re staying, and I’ll eat my dinner here. But Timmie will wait until later, won’t you, Timmie?” Kristen stated as she started to girlishly giggle.
I sat opposite Kristen countless times over a multitude of meals during the past year, but this was the first time that I wasn’t relaxed. Kristen was the type of person who put you at ease immediately. But that night was different. She excused herself and went to the Ladies’ Room as I pondered my situation.
Kristen and I had, by this time, reached an understanding of who was in control. But we really never talked about it. We kept this part of our relationship fairly under wraps. The extent of her control over me was kept discreet in public…until now.
When she returned, I looked at her like the first time I ever laid eyes on her. It reminded me of the Edith Wharton line, “Each time you happen to me all over again.”
Kristen possessed a contained vivacious energy, “like a crate of dynamite trapped in a match box,” I told her on our first date. That made her laugh then, but I felt a more serious tone to the more current proceedings. Kristen lifted one of her ankle boots and slowly poked the heel into my groin, the long white tablecloth effectively hiding her teasing ministrations. She slid a forkful of baked potato into her mouth, but somehow managed to do it seductively.
“Is that a peppermill in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?” she cooed.
I just sat silently, my cock growing.
“Timmie, call the waiter over and have him put some fresh pepper on my potato. But say it like this…my owner, Mistress Kristen would like some pepper on her baked potato.”
I looked at her silently, her gaze never wavering. After a brief pause, I called the waiter over.
“Mmmy owner…Mistress…Kristen would like some pepper on her baked potato, please,” I managed to croak out, sweating bullets.
When the waiter finished, Kristen had him keep the peppermill on our table.
“Timmie, sweetie. Be a dear and take the peppermill and grind some pepper on my boot.”
Her wide, loving eyes just melted my heart.
“Please?” she added innocently, batting her eyelashes.
Kristen shifted in her chair and crossed her legs. I took the peppermill and looked around. Luckily, our table was fairly secluded. I soon had her right black leather ankle boot evenly dusted with cracked pepper. Leaning forward, I looked up when I completed my task.
Kristen looked down at me with an impish grin and, voice dripping with honey, said, “My, my…those boots sure do need polishing. Perhaps a good tongue-cleaning. Would you mind, Timmie?”
I had tongue polished Kristen’s shoes many times before in private and worshipped her cute feet behind closed doors. But public humiliation? Never. I don’t even think that Kristen considered it humiliation. Just a game to see how far she could take me in her control over me.
I waited until our waiter left with my credit card until I delicately got down on my knees. I figured that I had better finish before he returned with my receipt. From the toe to the base of her ankle, I laved Kristen’s sexy boot. Apparently, straight pepper with no chaser didn’t agree with me (a big shocker there!) so I vainly reached for my water glass. Alas, Kristen had already drank it. Consequently, I was forced to gulp down the rest of my Cabernet. I was dizzy when the waiter returned, but my Mistress’ boot was clean and glistening.
“Good boy. I may have some use for you after all,” she giggled, pressing her booted toe into my crotch as I coughed on my pepper-coated tongue.
I drove her home with a lust-filled heart and a blood-engorged cock. Kristen had teased me before, but nothing like this.
Chapter 2: Chastity Cage
“Have a seat, Timmie. I’ll be down in a minute.”
I sat on the sofa and tried to rearrange my bulging erection to make it more…comfortable. A small wet spot marked my Jockeys with a stain of pre-cum fluid. Fifteen anxious minutes later, Kristen appeared, clad only in a sheer black nightgown and hiding something behind her back.
“I have a gift for you, too, Timmie. Something to show that I care. It symbolizes my commitment to you. It proves that I don’t want anyone else to have you or to love you.”
With this little preamble, Kristen produced the gift. She held it out in front of her on both upturned palms. It was a metal contraption with a padlock and a spherical centerpiece that resembled a birdcage. In fact, that’s what she called it, “The Bird Cage.” It was a chastity device, no doubt, and she intended for me to wear it. I was to surrender my cock and balls to my Mistress and lock them in the cage.
As soon as the small box arrived in the mail the previous day, Kristen eagerly opened it. She ordered it two months before when she surfed the Web looking for a chastity device for me. The birdcage immediately caught her eye. It cost $200 dollars, but seemed ideal for long-term wear.
It was made entirely from welded stainless steel and was built to last. Kristen read the instructions and silently purred. A slight grin formed across her beautiful face as she read aloud:
“The larger ring is pulled open, attached behind the testicles and penis, then closed. The penis is then placed in the cage itself and the cage is, in turn, attached to the ring. The padlock is then installed, firmly securing the male and completely preventing sex or even masturbation. It is possible to urinate while wearing the device, although the male may have to sit like a woman. The device can not be detected under clothing, does not unduly interfere with movement, and can be worn for quite extended periods.”
“You have two choices, my sweet Timmie. Put it on or get out. It’s entirely up to you.”
I noticed that from her necklace dangled a small gold key — the key to the cage, apparently.
“Your days of masturbatory freedom are over, my slavetoy. From now on, you’ll have no choice but to be totally sweet for me at all times,” she said with a satisfied look.
The stainless steel device consisted of two pieces that, when locked together, was supposed to prevent erection, and make masturbation impossible. The two main components were the cock ring and the cage. The inside circumference of the ring was the same as the outside circumference of my flaccid penis. Where the metal of the ring came together, it was bent at a 90 degree angle, forming two 1/2″ plates that had been drilled to accept a small padlock. The second and main component of the device was the cock cage itself. Made out of the same 1/2″ wide stainless steel strip, there were three parts: a ring and two sections that were formed in a “U” shape.
“I’m going to make myself a cup of tea. When I return, I expect you either to be gone or naked and on your knees in front of the sofa. Choose wisely, for it may be the most important decision of your life.”
As I watched Kristen’s sweet behind saunter into the kitchen, I decided that my fate was sealed. I would give myself to her in the literal sense. When she returned, I was indeed naked and kneeling.
“Very well, Timmie. You may have made the worst decision of your life…or the best. Only time will tell.
Kristen picked up a pencil from the coffee table and flicked it at my heavy-hanging scrotal sac. Before my brain could recover from the shock, she fitted the ring around my flaccid penis and behind my balls and slipped the cage over easily. The slot in the long tab on the cage fit over the tabs of the cock ring. She replaced the lock that came with the cage with one of her own. It was a personalized gold padlock with the inscription of the letter “K.”
Kristen snapped the lock on, and I was totally secured…and chaste. I would be able to urinate, but completely unable to have a full erection, or have sexual intercourse. My balls were slightly squeezed between the penis cage ring and the cock ring behind my balls.
“As you start to get an erection, the cock ring will trap the blood in your cock, which will prolong the time it will take for your semi- erection to subside,” Kristen matter-of-factly explained to me. “You may need to experiment to discover in which position it is more comfortable to wear, either pointing up or down. A jock strap may be necessary to keep it from pointing straight out and causing an embarrassing tent in your pants. Although the girls at work may enjoy that, don’t you think, Timmie?”
I needn’t answer. I only stared at my imprisoned organ and listened to Kristen’s soothing voice.
“The device is surprisingly comfortable when you are flaccid. But when you wake up with that morning wood…hoo-boy! It will REALLY hurt. If I were you, I wouldn’t dare dream about me. It may not be worth it. When you start to become aroused, the cage will prevent a complete erection and the tissue will begin to bulge out between the large ring and the cage. This may be extremely uncomfortable, even painful, Timmie, dear. In due time, you will learn not to become erect.”
This was a more serious predicament than I first thought. With my manhood imprisoned, the ruthless chastity device merely allowed a partial erection which took all the willpower in the world to accomplish. I had suffered through full tumescence nearly all night long and the cold, unyielding metal cage would have rendered this all but impossible.
“I think it’s time for me to sate my own randy cravings, don’t you think?” Kristen purred, sliding the tip of her wet tongue over her glossy pink lips.
After we entered her bedroom, Kristen ordered me to lie flat on my back. I shuddered as she manacled my wrists to the top two corners of the bed. She gently stroked my cheek and blew in my ear. I moaned but Kristen ignored me, tying my ankles to the bottom two corners of the bed. She then slowly removed her negligee until she was just clad in panties. They were cherry red, just like the ribbon in her hair. She crawled over my face and planted a deep kiss on my trembling mouth. I arched my back as she removed the rest of her undergarments.
My new keyholder then straddled my head to face my captured erection. All that I could see was her luscious rump. But she peered around to tell me, in no uncertain terms, to please her. I then used my tongue to swab every inch of my princess, from the crease of her buttocks to her navel. She was absolutely delectable and her wine soon coated every square inch of my adoring face. My own cock pulsated helplessly in its semi-rigid state and leaked seminal fluid as Kristen blew softly on it and playfully flicked her tongue.
Agonizingly stifled with desire, I orally pleased Kristen for two hours and gave her several orgasms. She kept me on edge by teasing me with her succulent tongue and sweet lips, but I was denied release. There was just no way to achieve orgasm with that infernal device secured.
We were still locked in a “69″ when Kristen softly eased into a content slumber. I, of course, could not sleep and when she awoke in the morning, I had a throbbing headache. Leaving me bound, she showered and dressed quickly, stuffing her panties in my mouth and sealing my mouth with silver duct tape.
“My sweet Timmie, I have such wicked delights in store for you. I hope you can keep up with me. I’m very insatiable, you know. I hope you have a strong tongue, at least as strong as that metal prison that keeps such a close eye on your…I mean my…cock.”
Moving closer, Kristen placed a sweet, wet, loving kiss on top of the thick tape. I could have sworn that I felt her hot breath seep through.
Chapter 3: Total Orgasm Denial?
“I think I would like to be treated to a nice champagne breakfast, Timmie.” Kristen announced. “Put your jockstrap on over the cage and get dressed while I shower,” she added before turning away with a smile.
I heard my goddess humming in the shower while I tried to get my trapped penis comfortably hidden under my pants. She started to sing a Tina Arena song, her favorite.
When she emerged form the bedroom, Kristen looked ravishing and smelled even more divine. She knew how her perfume drove me crazy, but would not reveal the name of it. She expected me to figure it out on my own and to purchase it for her before the bottle emptied. If I didn’t, there would be hell to pay, she explained.
“Come along my slavetoy,” she breathed softly while striding past me.
She dropped her purse in front of me and bent over to pick it up. Her ass, meanwhile, lightly brushed against my caged penis. I inhaled deeply and tried to exercise some willpower. It was futile and I felt the steel bite into my tender flesh. It would be a long night, I thought.
We were seated at a corner table and ordered our Cristal and Eggs Benedict. Kristen slipped off her pumps and ordered me to unzip my fly. Luckily, the long white linen tablecloth effectively hid our erotic foreplay.
“Pull your jockstrap to one side, my slavetoy,” she whispered gently to me.
Using her toes, Kristen felt along the edges of the cage.
“So smooth…so cold…so delicious,” she cooed.
She tried poking her big toe into the cage, which, of course, was impossible. In turn, she tried all her toes, all the while sipping her champagne and discussing the merits of an Al Gore presidency. When she used her pinky toe, Kristen was finally able to enter the cage and stroke my restrained male flesh. She giggled and wiggled her toe, causing my penis to gently throb to her touch. She saw the agony in my eyes as the hard, unforgiving steel prevented any growth.
“What’s the matter, Timmie, dear? Have you no self-control? You better get used to it. That thing’s not coming off in quite a while. You see, in this relationship, we have equality. I get as many orgasms as I want. And you? You get as many orgasms as I want, too. You see? Equality!”
Kristen giggled some more.
“I think a fair trade-off would be 1000 orgasms for me and…let’s see…ONE for you! That seems fair, doesn’t it, my slavetoy?”
I didn’t answer. All that mattered to me is that my Mistress Kristen allowed me to be in her divine presence. She allowed me to worship her and to give her pleasure. What more could a guy ask for? I was frustrated, but deeply satisfied.
“Pay the bill, Timmie dear. I need to go to my beauty salon for a manicure and pedicure. I expect you to take over those duties soon. Anyway, since I’ll be taking the car, you can walk home. I’ll call you if I need you. Ta-ta, my little slavetoy,” Kristen softly sang, wrinkling her cute little nose at me. Suddenly, she was gone. Out the door. Oh, how I adored her.
Chapter 4: Punishment
When Mistress Kristen called me back to her home at the crack of dawn, I jumped, as I always did when I received one of those phone calls.
No words were exchanged as I performed a desperate dance of lust and rapidly stripped myself naked until I sank to my knees in front of her.
Giggling, Kristen removed her robe, revealing white lace panties. God, she was beautiful. She slid the panties down sensually, stepped out of them, and sat delicately in a large chair in front of me. With a grin, she looked down at my hard cock, jutting obscenely in front of me.
“I bet I could read your mind,” she whispered as I blushed.
With a sigh, she settled back in the chair and let her alabaster legs slowly drift apart. My eyes fastened on the soft dark hair of her pussy as her finger caressed it. I could soon see wetness envelope the puffy lips.
“Listen Timmie,” she whispered. “Today’s your lucky day. I give you permission to taste me.”
With joy, I tenderly sank my face into that glorious honeypot, soaking up the sweet smell and tasting her essence. With a determination that I never felt before, I abandoned myself to her pussy. There was no sense of time as my tongue explored, caressed, and nuzzled every inch of her womanhood. I relished this moment like it was frozen in time.
Suddenly, Kristen’s hand grabbed the back of my head and ground my face into her loins as she groaned with pleasure. I delicately licked her soft inner thighs as she leaned back.
“Enough, Timmie,” she gasped and my intimacy with her pussy was left unsated, merely leaving me with a frustrated and painfully chastised cock and her juices glistening on my face.
Kristen playfully tousled my hair.
“You’re very convenient to have around, Timmie,” she cooed as she languidly picked up her panties and wiped her moist pussy.
I waited, hoping that she would allow me some relief.
She stood up and cleared some items from the coffee table. I gaped at her in her white bra as she beckoned me.
“Bend over the table, Timmie,” she ordered and I complied, crushing my captive cock into the wooden table top.
“Open wide,” Kristen ordered breathlessly, holding my chin while she forced her musky panties deep into my mouth.
I felt her pushing her damp pussy against my rear and her hard nipples against my back, pressing me firmly against the table.
“I adore having you spread over the table like this,” she whispered in my ear, her long raven tresses tickling my shoulders. “You’re just so naked and vulnerable.”
Startled, I looked back at her grinning face over my shoulder. I suddenly felt very nervous.
“Don’t move,” she warned.
I felt her disengage from me as she rummaged through her handbag. Kristen proceeded to tie my wrists and ankles to the four limbs of the coffee table with strong cord.
“I’m glad you wear a belt, Timmie,” she coldly stated.” I heard her snap the belt and then giggle.
“Better not disturb the neighbors,” she said behind me.
The sudden noise from the stereo made me jump. A top 40 station was playing — Britney Spears singing about loneliness.
Kristen was pushing into me again, grinding her sopping pussy against me and driving my caged cock into the table. The belt trailed across my shoulders and I was, suddenly, very afraid.
“What shall I punish you for this time, Timmie? Surely you must have done something this week to deserve it, haven’t you? You must have ogled some poor young thing when you went to the mall on Sunday to return my shoes, huh? Don’t lie to me.”
I mumbled through the panties, trying to answer her in the negative.
“Hmmm…I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, her hot breath in my ear until, suddenly, she turned away and the stereo volume doubled.
I never even heard the first stroke but I sure felt it as a fierce red hot pain seared my rear end like sirloin on a grill. The panties in my mouth muffled any protest. TLC started on the stereo.
“Two,” she blurted and the next stroke cut deep into my backside. By the fourth stroke, I shivered in pain, my hands pulling at the cord and tears forming in my eyes. The fifth stroke had me perpetually groaning into the panty gag, and by the seventh I was sobbing uncontrollably, my cries absorbed by Kristen’s panties as I surrendered completely to her.
I don’t remember her stopping the torment, but I saw her walk into the bathroom carrying her robe as I sobbed on the table.
Finally, my sobs faded but the burning on my buttocks remained as I lay there. Suddenly, the music disappeared and a fully-dressed Kristen appeared next to me.
“I’ll let you keep my panties as a souvenir,” she said. I’ll just have to remember to be careful when I cross my legs at work today.
Kristen strolled to the door.
“Have a nice day, Timmie.”
I gingerly raised my head and, as I turned to face her, I was amazed to feel my cock desperately trying to burst through its metal confines.
“We’ll pick this up when I get back from work…don’t go anywhere.”
Kristen tossed her long black hair back, giggled girlishly, and walked out the door, shutting it behind her.
“I can’t wait until she finally understands the measure of my devotion,” I thought to myself.
It was a long and difficult day, but I somehow managed to sleep fitfully. My birdcage unfortunately woke me up from the middle of a wet dream. Then my real-live wet dream woke me up.
“I’ll e-mail you when I want to see you again,” Kristen loudly informed me when she returned.
My erection made a comeback, at least tried to, when she brushed up against me to untie my bonds.
“Prepare dinner while I freshen up, okay sweetie? And make sure that Porterhouse is bloody rare.”
Oh, god, Kristen could be so adorable. It just killed me when she acted like that. Sometimes it was easier to accept when she was cruel.
Chapter 5: Bathroom Bondage
The following evening, I nervously watched the clock tick. It was already 11pm and I was supposed to meet Mistress Kristen at midnight at a pre-arranged destination. It was at the airport which was about an hour away. It meant that I had to leave immediately, lest I anger my Mistress with my tardiness.
I parked my car in the short-term parking lot and at 11:40PM, I made my way to Terminal B. I was instructed in an e-mail to be in front of the Ladies restroom nearest to Gate B15 at midnight. I arrived with ten minutes to spare and waited. I tried to act inconspicuously and pretended to wait, which wasn’t hard to do.
I waited until 12:25, when Kristen finally arrived and nonchalantly walked into the restroom. As per e-mail instructions, I discreetly followed her in. I joined her in the far stall and wordlessly stripped off all my clothes. Kristen silently watched, her lips curling into a slight smirk. She wore a pair of jeans, a pullover black sweater, and charcoal gray mules. Her arms were folded and she impatiently tapped her right foot.
Kristen quickly put my clothes into her shoulder bag and removed a four foot length of chain and two combination padlocks. I didn’t know what to expect next.
“On your knees, Timmie…and spread your legs.”
I obliged and Kristen snugly wrapped the chain around my scrotum and locked it on with one of the padlocks. She wrapped the other end around the base of the toilet bowl and likewise locked it on with the other padlock.
“Go ahead, sweet Timmie. Try to stand.”
I attempted to get up off my knees, but could not. There just wasn’t enough slack and my testicles were pulled sharply downward causing me to hiss through my teeth.
“Put your hands together behind your back, my slavetoy.”
Kristen locked a pair of handcuffs on me and stepped back to get something out of her handbag. It was an 8″ by 10″ piece of white looseleaf paper and a roll of clear tape. She placed the paper against the inside wall of the stall and, with a thick red magic marker, she wrote the words “OUT OF ORDER.” Taping it on the outside of the stall’s door, she looked back down at me.
“Sweet Timmie, you have a very difficult night ahead of you. I have to catch a 7am flight to New York for that trade show that I told you about, so I don’t have to be back here for another six hours. Consider this your final test of devotion to me.
Suddenly she walked away into the stall next door. I heard some rustling noises and within two minutes, Kristen returned with a gift.
“Here are my panties to keep you company, my slavetoy. Try not to attract attention.”
I stared at my Mistress with glassy eyes. I couldn’t believe she would do this to me in public — in a women’s bathroom no less! She wadded the panties up into a ball and stuffed it into my mouth. She then wrapped silver duct tape over my lips and wrapped it several times around my head, before finally cutting it off from the roll and smoothing it down over my face.
Kristen picked up her bag and I watched the sweet curves of her ass as she walked out of the stall and closed the door behind her. On my knees, I stared at her shoes. Almost magically, her face appeared in the twelve inch gap between the door and the floor. Our eyes met, and she frowned at me.
“If I were you, my slavetoy, I would try to become invisible, if you know what I mean.”
I was puzzled as I heard her heels click along the tile floor until she was gone. I shivered in the cool bathroom for about a minute, digesting her last words and my current dangerous predicament. I tried to peak under the door when it hit me. My feet! They could see my feet! I put the toilet lid down and carefully climbed on top. Luckily, there was enough slack for me to kneel down. It was uncomfortable, and my testicles were drawn awkwardly back, but I was successful in “disappearing.”
As I kneeled there, I contemplated being caught. What would I say if someone found me. I went in there willingly, so I was indeed breaking the law. I was naked — lewdly naked — in a public Ladies Room. Was this considered a “sex” crime? Oh my god! If I was caught, I would be utterly destroyed, let alone mortified. There I was, nude, kneeling on a toilet in an airport women’s room with a pair of panties in my mouth, my hands cuffed behind me, and my balls chained.
Although the room was as cold as a refrigerator, I started to perspire. The terminal was fairly empty when I arrived, but that would soon change at daybreak. An hour passed until I heard a visitor enter. I shut my eyes as the click-clack of high heels got louder and louder. I heard a yawn and then a faucet running. It sounded like someone was brushing their teeth. After about ten minutes of freshening up, I hear her walk over to one of the stalls. I held my breath even as my thighs started to cramp. I hear a light tinkling as the visitor relieved her bladder. She flushed the toilet, then I heard a faucet run again. Soon the door opened and she was gone. I exhaled sharply and felt the tension drain from my body.
This process was repeated several times throughout that late evening/early morning. At approximately 4am, I heard giggling as two young women entered the bathroom. They sounded like they had just come from the airport bar. They were drunk, loud, and carrying on like sailors on leave. One of them turned on the faucet and splashed the other with water. When they started to slam the stall doors, I got VERY nervous. They chased each other throughout the bathroom, slamming the stall doors louder each time. When they finally got to my door, I froze. It opened, then slammed shut. More giggling, then it happened again. There was a pause of total silence.
“Angelina, I know I just had four margaritas, but I think there’s a man in there,” the brunette said.
“What did you say, Kalinda?” the blonde replied.
“A man…a real-live man!”
I looked down at the floor, then slowly raised my eyes as the door slowly opened.
“Oh my God, Kalinda. You’re right. Hey mister, what happened? Were you robbed or something?”
The blonde began to unravel the tape from my face as I averted my gaze from the brunette, who had a small smile on her face.
“I doubt it Angelina. His cock is wearing a Hannibal Lecter mask and it’s leaking like he’s on the rag.”
Angelina pulled Kristen’s panties from my mouth and I cleared my throat. Although this particular punishment was a surprise to me, I did know what to say from Kristen’s detailed e-mail instructions. She told me how to answer any and all question that night.
“I’m Goddess Kristen’s pet and I’m being punished for overcooking last night’s dinner.”
That’s all I was allowed to say.
“Who the hell is Goddess Kristen?” Kalinda responded with slurred speech, slightly annoyed.
“I’m Goddess Kristen’s pet and I’m being punished for overcooking last night’s dinner.”
“When will she release you?” Angelina chimed in.
“I’m Goddess Kristen’s pet and I’m being punished for overcooking last night’s dinner.”
“This is going nowhere fast,” Kalinda said. “I say we have some fun with him.”
“Is he like one of those guys from ‘East of Eden?’” Angelina asked.
“You mean ‘Exit to Eden.’ Yeah, he’s a male wimp.” Kalinda answered. “I wonder how long he’s been here.”
“Maybe we ought to re-gag him.”
“Well, his Mistress left a roll of tape here on the floor. I got an idea,” Kalinda said. “Get a couple of fresh pairs of socks out of our bag. I’ve got just the ticket.”
Kalinda started to remove her tennis shoes and roughly shoved her pink cotton socks into my mouth.
“Angelina, take off you socks. There’s still some more room in the little slaveboy’s mouth.”
The blonde handed her lavender socks to her college roommate.
“Damn! Only one fits. A-ha! I got an idea.”
Kalinda pulled her friend’s other lavender sock down the length of my birdcage until the leaky head stretched the fabric and formed a stain. The friction nearly caused me to shoot my load. I moaned.
“I think you’re turning the poor fucker on, Kalinda. I think he likes you,” the blonde giggled.
“I don’t think he’ll like me after I do this to him.”
Kalinda pulled my handcuffs back until my shoulder blades were pointing toward the floor. This put tremendous pressure on my back as the young brunette pulled a clip from her hair and attached the handcuff chain to the chain leading away from my scrotum. I was bowed backwards until someone released me from this painful position. My knees had been carrying my full body weight for nearly five hours, pressing against the porcelain lid. I was in agony as I chewed on the college vixens’ socks.
“Buh-bye honey. I hope Kristen doesn’t forget about you,” Angelina said as she left the restroom.
“Slavey-wavey, you’re in a big ole heap a trouble. I wouldn’t wanna be in yer shoes. Adios, muchacho,” Kalinda sneered as she left me.
I held back my tears, and my position, for a full hour. At approximately 6am, I heard a familiar voice.
“GOOD MORNING, MY PET! My, my…what have we here? I don’t remember doing THAT to you. You must tell me all about it one of these days, Timmie my sweet.”
It was her. It was my goddess. It was my wonderful Kristen. I never felt such joy…or such shame, for burning her dinner.
“Hmmmm…Ya know what? I think I’ll keep you. Whaddya think, my slavetoy?”
I couldn’t answer, obviously. All I could do was cry…and cry…and cry.
Femdom Story of a Manager’s Submission
Lila led me on. She made me think I needed her. I hired her in spite of her lack of business experience.
She quickly made her intentions plain. She wanted me, or rather, she wanted my job.
Lila set the staff against me. She undercut my authority. She sabotaged my efforts.
Upper management took note. Not of her doings. No. All they saw weremy failings. My lack of leadership.
Lila defended me to my superiors. She propped me up. She needed me in place long enough to establish her own credentials. That done, she toppled me.
I waited in the anteroom of her new office. The staff milled around outside, peeking through the doorway at times to laugh at me. My old friends, colleagues, many who owed their jobs to me. So much for loyalty.
They knew what was coming. So did I. My fate lie in the hands of my beautiful young protégé. She would wield the ax and cut me loose. Butfirst, she let me twist in the wind for a while. A long while.
Finally I was called in. I entered her office with my head hangingdown, a beaten man. I didn’t notice she was naked until I heard thelock in the door bolt shut.
I looked up from my chair. There she stood. Towering over me withnothing on but black stockings, high heels and a huge strap on.
“You know why you’re here, right?” she asked as she nonchalantly pumped jellied lubricant onto the shaft. Slowly jacking her fist upand down the horrific facsimile. Carefully distributing the slippery substance in a generous glistening film.
“You’re taking my job.” I said, in a monotone. Too depressed andbeaten down to even care about what else she might have planned forme.
“I’ve GOT you’re job.” She said. “I’ll be taking something else, if you don’t mind, with a little help from my friend here. I’m getting itall slippery for you. It’ll be nice and warm.”
This was perfect. What did I care? I was heading off the roof after this anyway. What did I care if she fucked my ass? Hadn’t she fuckedme over already? It’d be an extra dose of guilt that my former friendswould have to bear. Lila might even feel remorse when she heard that Iwas dead, thinking this pushed me over the edge.
A spark of defiance flickered in me. She probably expected me towhimper and moan and beg not to be violated. I wasn’t going to giveher the satisfaction.
I rose from the chair, walked to her desk, and dropped my pants. Ibent over and spread my cheeks for her.
Without a word she kicked off her heels and walked up behind me. Even barefoot she had to bend her knees to align her hips with mine.
The initial thrust seemed to force a tidal wave of feeling from inside of me up my asshole and on into my skull. Blood pounded inside my ears as Lila pounded my ass.
The thing inside me- HER thing — stretched my hole beyond its natural elasticity. Lila did things to my physical body that were audible. Like a structure about to collapse. I heard the creaking of connective tissue, the breaching of flesh and bone. She seemingly split me in two with such arrogant force that I was helpless but to crumble.
And crumble I did. Not only physically but mentally as well—spiritually.
Even as she broke me down I felt myself building back up again. As expected, terror ripped through me. I felt weak. Ashamed.
But as she assumed total ownership of me with each unrelenting fuck-thrust, as she claimed the very center of my being as it were—a life affirming glow began to forge itself within me. The destruction of my old self was not the end of me, not anything negative at all. Itwas the beginning. I felt positively light. ”Feels good doesn’t it, Joe?”
“Yes.” I said, incapable of lying.
“Makes you feel like a whole new human being.” She said. Thrustingurgently– for emphasis.
“Like you’re a whole new woman, eh, Joe?”
I found myself unable to speak. About to cum.
Lila reached around me, I thought (at first), to help get me off, “Ohno. None of that.” She said, clamping her hand around my cock, stillpounding my ass, HARD. “You’ll cum when I’m good and ready for you to cum. Understand?” Ramming hard here. Then harder still. I was roiling.Flailing uncontrollably— desperately frustrated. She pinned my face sideways against the desktop. “UNDERSTAND?” she asked again.
“Yes, Lila.” I totally gave myself over to her and the roiling stopped. As if by magic she took my spasms from me. She held me safe.She owned me.
She pounded her way to orgasm as I offered up my ass freely, content to be her humble fuck-bag. In contrast to my contemplating suicide, itnow felt as though I’d found a home. Far from feeling violated I felt invigorated, emancipated. Lila freed me from myself and took me toher.
After orgasm, she unstrapped herself and left the thing in me.
“Stay.” She commanded. Then, a moment later, “All right.”
She sat in her chair with a new dildo strapped on, “Kneel, Bitch.”
I got down on it. Lila affectionately fed the cock to me. Holding thebase of it with one hand and pulling my head onto it with the other.
“Relax, dear. There’s no hurry. Take your time. It’s bigger than itlooks, I know. But we got it up your ass all right, didn’t we? Trustme, we’ll get it down your throat all right too.”
I looked up at her— my reason for being— and tried with my eyes toconvey, “I trust you.” Tears formed at the corners of my eyes and sheknew.
“Close your eyes, Bitch. Smell my scent. Relax.”
On cue, I relaxed. Her wonderful essence made my muscles go slack. She grabbed the back of my head with both hands and thrust the dildo intome. Fully.
“There it’s done.” She said, tenderly, stroking my hair. “I’ve got youbutt-fucked and muff-punked— skewered — and you’ve taken it like agood little bitch. That’s good. It means you’ve got the job.”
A muffled “Huh?” came out of my throat.
“You’re my new assistant. You’ll be doing all my work, all the work you always did, and I’ll get all the credit. I need you. I always knewthat I would. I had you pegged from the start. Congratulations.”
She pulled the strap on out of my mouth and took it off as I kneltthere.
Standing with her ass in my face she said, “You’ve got thirty seconds.If you can get off while licking my ass without touching yourself I’lllet you cum.”
She was beautiful. She was elegant. She was a shrewd Amazon and I adored every inch of her body. But I still had a thing or two that eluded her control.
I chuckled to myself as she signaled for me to start eating her ass:I’d shot my wad already. As soon as she uttered the words it was allover: I gushed liked a geyser. But why let on? I touched my grateful tongue to her luscious love-star. I wanted every second I could get of rimming the shit out of her. My cheeks to hers.
Of course, afterward I’d let her know I jumped the gun. I wasn’t thatmuch of a scoundrel. She’d surely whip my ass. I had it coming. Thatmuch I deserved. But, anyway, enough of that. Right now I still have twenty seconds left of licking her wonderful asshole.
“Come on, I know you can do a better job of hitting than that! Let’s get a good one before you have to go in and finish up that homework. It’s getting dark.” The youngster squared himself up for the coming pitch, concentration intense on his face. As the softball slowly traveled toward him, the bat came around and connected with a loud ‘SMACK’. The ball sailed upward in a high arc, coming down onto the front roof of the neighboring house.
“Alright! Good one.. You better get in and after that homework, your mother should have been back from the store by now and I promised I wouldn’t keep you out here late, so we better get you in before she gets home. I’ll go and shag your ball. Good thing the neighbor lady isn’t home, probably wouldn’t appreciate you lobbing bombs onto her roof! And put your bat away, please.”
As the boy went into the house, he began the search for the ball. This had to be the easiest job he had ever had while he was in college. Just being around in the evening to keep an eye on the kid in exchange for room and board. And the room even had a private entrance and bath, so it was more like an apartment than a room in a private home. Not that he needed all THAT much privacy. The girls at school hadn’t been all that forthcoming and he was pretty much restricted to hoping for more and the casual grope at the movies before that sterile kiss good night.
Thinking he probably should have quit before it was quite so dark, he realized it was going to be tough to find the ball. It probably came off the roof between the house and the tall hedge that masked that end of the house from the street and the streetlight. But, with a sigh, he went into the small corridor and began looking for the lost ball.
“Good thing she isn’t home, that is all I need, to have the neighbor thinking that I am some sort of peeping Tom or something.” To tell the truth, she wasn’t exactly what he would consider peeping material, an older woman, on the heavy side. Not like those women in the magazines, slim with lots of muscle definition, she was more pudgy than anything else, sort of frumpy. Quiet, she waved at all the neighbors when she passed but didn’t seem to be real outgoing. He had never really noticed any single guys coming over to visit, an occasional group of folks over or couples. Generally quiet, pretty much kept to herself.
“Damn, I know the stupid ball has to be here somewhere!”
Concentrating on the search, it was all he could do to not jump when the light from the window suddenly appeared. That extra bit of light did it for him and he spotted the missing ball.
“Oh god, I didn’t even hear the car and now she is home and I am out here sneaking around in her bushes!” Looking up, he realized that he could see directly into what appeared to be a bedroom and his view was essentially limited to a large mirrored vanity. He realized, by looking at the mirror, he could see the rest of the room easily. Because it was dark out, anyone inside probably couldn’t see him. The hedge blocked the view of the house from the street so there didn’t seem to be any reason for her to close the drapes. And, he also realized that she was getting undressed and found himself frozen in place, much like a deer in headlights.
As she began unbutton her blouse, she was dressed in a fairly conservative skirt and blouse, he discovered he was wondering what she really looked like since she usually dressed in loose clothes that made it really hard to determine. She slid off the blouse and he realized what he had always assumed was heaviness was just from the size of her breasts. They were large and heavy. He even thought he could see dark nipples, for the lace of her bra was surprisingly thin given what it was holding up.
She began to unbutton her skirt. He realized he was enjoying this, the added danger of being caught was making the erotic pleasure of watching a semi-stranger undress greater and he was getting hard. She slid out of her skirt and moved to hang up her clothing. He watched how she moved, the cheeks of her ass sliding under the silk of her slip, how her breasts fell away from her body when she leaned forward. She hooked her fingers into the slip and slid it off. Folding that, she turned to walk to the bureau and he caught himself almost groaning, for not only did she have stockings on, but her panties were only the smallest thong! Her generous ass was rounded and the small ribbons that held up her stockings pressed into the cheeks.
He would have never imagined, looking at her dressed for work in drab gray and blue suits, that she was hiding a man’s erotic dream underneath. She was turning the bed down, but he didn’t think she was one of those folks that turned in early. The bed faced the mirror, so he watched her profile as she reached back and unhooked her bra, almost holding his breath. As the lace came away, he saw that he was right, the nipples were large with dark areolas. She lifted each leg onto the bed and began to unhook her stockings and take them off, finally taking off the belt. Clothed only in the tiniest of panties, she reached her hands far above her head and arching her back, stretched. He could see tendrils of hair escaping the tiny front patch of fabric, dark and curly. Walking around the bed again, she passed very close to the window and paused to slide it open a bit, for it was a warm summer night. He flattened himself against the house, thankful for the grass growing there which muffled any sound he would have made.
He could hear her humming to herself as she rummaged around in her nightstand. Curious, he tried to take his eyes off the roundness of her ass where they seem to have stuck and see what she was doing. His eyes grew large as he realized she had pulled an assortment of sex toys out of the drawer and was gazing at them critically. He was beginning to be painfully hard and realized that he was either going to have to pray for a sudden cold rain shower or do something drastic before he could come out from behind the hedge. He heard her murmur, ‘No, not tonight I think,’ as she loaded everything back into the drawer. Hooking her fingers around the tiny sides, she wiggled out of the last bit of covering and tossed it aside. Then she climbed onto the bed.
She took her ample breasts into her hands and began squeezing them, rubbing her legs together slowly. As she squeezed, she ran her thumb over the center and he could see the nipples begin to rise. Then she traced the dark area of her nipple with a fingernail. He imagined that he could see the skin begin to stiffen and pucker, wondering how they would feel under his hands. Were they firm or soft? He suspected they would be firm, for the breasts did not flatten much when she laid down. He saw that the nipples were quite large too, almost like pencil erasers and stood quite tall. She was beginning to make little noises as she pinched and squeezed her breasts and one hand began to wander down her belly.
As she lifted and spread her legs, he was amazed to see that she was bare from the top of the slit back. She obviously shaved and more obviously, at least right now, she was very, very wet. He could see the shine in the mirror as she began slowly tickling the labia. Dipping her finger into the slit, she smeared the wetness over herself as she began to moan in earnest. He realized that he had unconsciously surrendered to necessity, pulled the front of his shorts down and was now stroking his painfully hard cock as his eyes were glued to the mirror.
She was swelling now and he could see her clit beginning to peak out from its protective folds as she spread her legs even wider. Then, taking her other hand from her breasts where it had continued pinching her nipples, she spread her labia, exposing the inner lips and began running the tip of one finger very lightly around the very upper edge. She was visibly squirming now and her gasps and moans had changed in pitch and had become lower.
She began rubbing her clit with the one hand and he saw here slide one and them more fingers inside. Faster and faster she went with him matching the strokes on his cock to her cries until she cried out loudly and pressing her knees together tightly rolled over onto her side and shuddered violently. He also reached his peak and with a low grunt, thick, ropy cum flew through the air to stick to the side of the house. He leaned there for a few moments until the strength returned to his legs, straightened his clothing, picked up the ball and went round the hedge to his own yard. Had he stayed a moment longer, he would have seen her sit up, look at the window and smile.
Sitting down on the stairs to the deck, he tried to regain his composure before going into the house. He was trying to make sense of what had just happened, but there seemed to be a sense of unreality about it. He realized that he had just whacked off, peeking in the neighbors window. God! He hoped he wasn’t turning into some sort of a pervert of something. The next thing would be sneaking around in a trench coat, flashing young girls, or jerking off in porno movies. Shaking his head, he went in.
“Did you find the ball, finally?”
“Did you find the ball? Tommy told us he hit the ball onto Ms. Smith’s roof and it went behind the hedge. I figured you would have trouble finding it in the dark. Pat said she would turn on a light so you could see better.”
“Who would?” He was by this time totally confused as the sense of unreality continued.
“Ms. Smith, I ran into her at the grocery store and she was having some problems with her car, so I gave her a lift home and they towed hers to the shop. That is why I was so late, we were waiting for the tow truck. She figured you would be having a hard time seeing anything out there, so she said she would turn on a light so you could see better. Did it help? Oh, it must have, I see you have the ball.”
“Oh yea, the light helped me see a lot.”
Originally posted 2010-11-15 23:46:22.
The relationship I have with my wife, is not all Femdom, but can also be Vanilla for some of the time, however, She is the boss, and It is She alone who decides when it is to be vanilla, and when it is to be Femdom, I have no say in the matter.
Once when it was vanilla, She asked me if there was anything in particular that I would like Her to do to me during the Femdom period. Yes I said, I would very much like you to bind me, make me completely helpless, immobile, unable to move a muscle, putting me entirely at your disposal, so that you can use me in whatever way you wish.
I also said I hoped that She would enjoy doing this.. She smiled and said oh yes I will, and what’s more, I know exactly what to use, leave it to me.
She made a number of purchases, and a few days later said, “Come with me”, led me upstairs, and told me to lie on the bed face upwards with your head at the end nearest to my dressing table.
Now She continued “I am going to put you to sleep ( As you know he is a Hospital nurse), and when you wake up your dreams will have been fulfilled”.
She injected the anesthetic and I was soon unconscious.. When I at last regained consciousness, I found my entire body apart from my head encased inside a strong elasticated lycra tube made up entirely of a number of Woman’s firm support foundation garments.
There are no words to describe the ecstatic feelings I had as I woke up, and found myself totally immobilized, completely unable to move anything except my head, but best of all I had been restrained using only intimate Female related material, and this was indeed joy unspeakable.
Looking down at me she said, well, how’s that, brilliant I replied.
Without another word, she turned round, sat herself down on my face looked into the mirror and proceeded to attend to her appearance.
What a woman, is it any wonder I worship her.
Originally posted 2012-09-08 08:25:49.
I find myself naked and handcuffed. Mia and Betty are taking there revenge on me, their muscular friend Buzz is here to make sure I’m compliant. I’m taken to the shower, my body covered from the neck down with hair removing lotion. Ten minutes later I’m as smooth as a 12 year old girl.
Buzz is gay. Under threat of being forcibly sodomised, I am made to kneel and give my first blowjob while the girls video tape me. “Faster,” Buzz says as I work his head with my lips and tongue. “Squeeze my balls,” he moans, and I do. “Open wide,” he grunts, jerking of onto my face. “He’s got a hard-on,” Betty says, panning down from my come spattered face to my stiff cock. “He loves sucking dick.”
Still taping, they take me to the bedroom, remove the handcuffs, and dress me in a padded bra, a cheerleader’s skirt and sweater, thigh high fishnet stockings, and high heels. I watch in the mirror as Mia applies heavy makeup to my face. Gradually, my features are softened and soon I look like a semi-attractive woman. The finishing touch is a long blond wig. “There,” says Mia, “pretty as a picture.”
Betty warns me that if I’m disobedient my manager at work will receive a copy of my “little tape.” I resign myself to whatever fate the girls have in store for me. I’m still dressed like a cheerleading hooker as the four of us go out to the car. I have to keep my hands at my sides, to keep my skirt from blowing up and revealing my bare ass and crotch. In the car, Betty tells me to “talk like an air head.” She has me say “I’m a slut,” in several different high pitched voices until I sound “convincing.”
They drive me to my friend Dick’s apartment. Inside, my friends Dick, Dack, and Mack are sitting around watching TV. Betty introduces me as Cherry, and to my surprise they don’t seem to recognize me. Betty says I’m a friend of Buzz’s and that I need to practice my blowjob’s.
Next thing I know I’m sucking the cocks, fondling the balls, and swallowing the come of my three best friends, who all think I’m some slut named cherry. Of course Mia is video taping the whole thing. When I’m done, Mack suggests that maybe I’d like to practice a couple other things, but Betty quickly cuts in. “We’ve got plan’s right now.” “Maybe later,” she says with a wink as we are leaving.
“Your getting pretty good as sucking cock there Cherry,” Mia says when we get back to the car. “Yeah,” Betty agrees, “I thought Mack was going to propose.” Betty, Mia, and Buzz are still laughing as we pull into traffic.
We drive to Betty’s apartment. There, we watch the video tape of me sucking off Buzz, being cross dressed, and sucking of my three best friends. After that, the girls take me to the bathroom and give me a hot soapy enema. They repeat the treatment several times, until I’m “Nice and clean.”
“The guys will be here soon,” Buzz tells us when we return to the living room. “Well we better get Cherry ready then,” Mia says, producing a tube of ky-jelly and a small vibrator. Mia positions me on my back on the floor and has me pull my knees to my chest, while Betty turns the video recorder back on. The slick vibrator stings a bit when it pierces my ass. But, it’s only about an inch thick so Mia can easily push the whole thing into my hairless asshole. It is uncomfortable, but not painful. Mia twists the base of the vibrator, turning it. The sensation is incredible and my dick swells quickly. Betty moves in for a close up of my ass and crotch. “He loves getting it in the ass … Good thing!”
The guys turned out to be Dick, Dack, and Mack. While Mia explained to them that Cherry wanted to “practice” taking it up the ass, Betty takes me to the bedroom. “Lay face down and keep your legs together, unless you want your friends to know it’s you.” Then Mia brings the guys, and the video camera, into the room.
Dack goes first. He lubricates his cock with KY, straddles my thighs, and lifts my skirt exposing the tops of my stockings and my bare ass. His slick warm head slides down my crack to my anus. Then he begins to push. I grit my teeth as his thick cock stretches my virgin asshole open wide. After a short series of stabbing thrusts I feel his warm wet wad filling my bowls.
Seconds after Dack pulls his softening cock from my ass it is replaced by Mack’s fully hard member. Mack’s balls slap against my ass with each of his long strokes. Fifteen minutes later, with a grunt and a final jab, Mack shoots his hot spunk into my aching asshole.
Betty spreads my cheeks as Dick slips into my well fucked anus. He pumps into me faster and faster. Suddenly he’s coming hard, my ass, stomach, and dick pulse in unison with his throbbing cock.
The guys leave the bedroom. Betty has me roll over to see if I have a hard-on. “He really loves getting ass fucked!” she says, while she gets a close up of my spent cock and the puddle of my come.
Originally posted 2011-07-17 05:35:37.
In the year 2012, society has drastically changed. Women are now in control of everything, and the men serve the women. It is a gentler society, but the men still need to be disciplined on a regular basis to keep them in their place. Although most of the women do spank their husbands, this new society set a unique system of correction to keep the men in line. For every 500 men living in a town or city, there was a “House of Correction”. This is where the punishments were given to the men. After a man received 6 or up to12 demerits, he needed to report to the “House of Correction” to receive his punishment. A demerit was received when a man was disrespectful to a woman, hit a woman, or if he showed off his male ego. Each man had an implanted chip that allowed any woman to identify the man by a special number. Once the woman had this number, she could add a demerit to his account using a small handheld device that also worked as a telephone. On the man’s telephone, he had a constant read out of how many demerits he had. This is a story is about a man who lived during this period of time.
I usually work in the city, but I was sent away to another town on a business trip. I was gone for about a week, and was travelling back to the city when I noticed that my telephone said I had 20 demerits. You are supposed to report to a “House of Punishment” after 6 but with no more than 12 demerits. Also, you are suppose to report to the “House of Punishment” close to where you live. This way they get to know you a lot better, and can punish you better. Since it was going to take more than six hours to get back home again, I decided to stop in at a “House of Correction” that was in a small town. I didn’t want to receive anymore demerits, and I was in enough trouble the way it was.
When I reported in to the receptionist, I was told that only 12 of my demerits would be taken care of at this time, and that I should get my 8 remaining demerits taken care of once I got back to the city. I was also informed that I would receive extra punishment because I had waited until I had 20 demerits to report in to a “House of Punishment”. I had received 12 demerits many times before and was used to how I was punished at the local “House of Punishment”. This usually included being stripped down and paddled, followed by 12 counted strokes of the cane. It was very uncomfortable and somewhat painful, but I knew what to expect.
Soon a perky young woman came out and called out my name. She introduced herself as Cindy, and I followed her into a preparation room. “I see you are from the big city. Here, you will be punished our way. Do not speak unless spoken to. First, take off all of your clothes and put them into one of the lockers.” As I was taking off my clothes, she sat down on a chair in the middle of the room. “Before I tag you, I am going to give you an over the knee spanking. Lay over my lap.” So I lay over her lap and she put my penis between her legs. As she spanked me, she told me that I could expect more than my usual punishment since I had waited so long for my punishment. After about 50 spanks, she let me up and said, “That should have warmed you up for now. Go over and stand in front of the wooden X on the wall, facing me. I need to get you ready for the rest of your punishment.” After I was standing in front of the wooden X, Cindy put wrist cuffs on me, and my arms were stretched wide and fastened to the X. Then she put ankle cuffs on me, spread my legs, and fastened my legs to the X. Next, she held my penis up, and slipped a plastic ring around the base of my penis and balls that said, “Clyde 17416″.
“Isabeli will be in shortly to give you your strokes of the cane. Be a good boy!” Cindy said.
I was left in the room like that for a few minutes, then another woman walked in. She immediately checked the card that was attached to the base of my penis and said, “I am Isabeli, and I will cane you. Once I have you freed from here, follow me.” Isabeli unhooked my cuffs from the wooden X and I followed her down the hall to a punishment room. It had a standard spanking bench like I was used to in the city, so I positioned myself over it, and Isabeli secured me down by attaching my cuffs to it, and also strapping me down. My legs were of course spread, and I was quite vulnerable for a caning. Although the caning really stung my bottom, I was able to count all 12 out loud. I thought this would be the end of my punishment but then Isabeli said, “Since you reported in so late for your punishment, Cindy will be back to help you with the next phase of your punishment.” Then Isabeli left the room.
In a little bit, I heard the door open again, and felt hands on the 12 welts on my bottom. “Isabeli does a nice job of caning you men. But let me get you off this spanking bench so that you can follow me for the next phase of your punishment.” Once I was free of the bench, I followed Cindy down the hall and into a room with a lot of exercise equipment. “The women’s exercise center is located next to the “House of Punishment”. We put especially naughty males in here so that the women of the town can have fun giving extra punishment to these males. I will put you into a stock for a few hours.” I was led close to the door where the women enter the exercise room. There was a wooden stock and a big sign that read, “I am a naughty male. Please punish me!” Cindy put me in the stock and I was secured again so that I was bent over and my legs were spread wide apart. “Clyde, I will come back for you in a couple of hours.”
I never expected that I would be punished like this. In front of the stocks were mirrors. They were angled so that I could see the entrance door in back of me. I had hoped that no one would come in to exercise, but soon a mother came in with her daughter, who looked like she was about 13 years old. “Oh look”, the mother said, “Here is a naughty male who needs further punishment.” She reached between my legs and tugged at the card that had my name. “His name is Clyde. You need to learn how to paddle men, so let me grab a paddle for you and you can punish Clyde.” The woman grabbed two paddles from the wall and gave one to her daughter. “You stand on that side, I’ll stand over here, and that way we can paddle him at the same time.” Then I felt the paddles, one on each cheek. “You can hit harder than that.,” The mother said. Then the blows became harder and harder. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. Soon the mother said, “You can stop now. See how red his bottom is. You can also see the 12 welts he got from his caning.” I felt two pairs of hand on my poor bottom. But soon they left me and started exercising.
Then I saw a young woman in here twenties come into the room. Once she saw me, she came over to the wall and took down a paddle. “I was hoping a naughty male would be here. Get set for a good spanking.” She really paddled me. She paddled my whole bottom including my upper legs and the insides of my thighs. Before she left, she looked at the tag that was attached to the base of my penis and said, “Well Clyde, I hope to see you in here again some day. I always like to paddle a naughty boy.”
Then, at last, I saw Cindy again. She looked at my red bottom and said, “I see that you have received extra punishment. Let me release you from the stock and then follow me for one last punishment.” I was hoping that I had experienced all my punishment by now, but I guess that I was going to be punished some more. We went through a door and down a hallway again. She took me to a door, and then Cindy knocked on the door. “This is Kathy. She will deal with you next. I will be back for you in about ten minutes.”
Inside the room was a long table, with a ledge on it. At the far end was a metal bar with two handles on it. “Get on top the table with your knees on the ledge, and lean forward and grab the handles on the bar,” Kathy said. I did so, and this made my bottom stick out. “Spread your knees far apart, and then stay still and always look forward.” I heard a few strange noises, then I felt something being rubbed around my asshole. I looked back and Kathy had some gloves on and was holding a jar of something.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“You were not suppose to look back, move or speak, so let me first secure you before I proceed.” Then my wrist cuffs were secured to the bar, my thighs were strapped into place, and a gag was put in my mouth. “Don’t look back,” she said again. I felt the something rubbed around my asshole again, and then I felt her fingers go inside of me. I felt like I was being probed. They were extracted, and then she said, “This should be a good reminder not to wait until you have 20 demerits for your punishment. Then a felt a burning sensation around and inside my asshole as she inserted her fingers again. She made sure that the burning jelly that she as applying was in me and around my asshole. Although she withdrew her fingers, I could still feel the burning sensation. “You should be able to feel that for a few hours,” Kathy said. “And know you have earned two extra strokes of the cane for looking back and talking.” She reached for the cane from the wall and then gave me two hard strokes of the cane. I would of screamed out but the gag was in my mouth. Now my whole bottom was hurting again, and I had a burning sensation in my asshole. “That ends your punishment from me. I hope you stay away from here for a while. Cindy will be in to release you so you can get your clothes again.” Then she left the room.
The door opened again and Cindy said, “Let me release you and you can follow me to the preparation room.” I was finally released again, my gag taken off, and when we got into the preparation room, Cindy said, “Go over to the wooden X and face me again.” Since I still had on the wrist and ankle cuffs, she easily secured me to the wooden X. Then Cindy loosened and took off the tag from the base of my penis. “I need to do one more thing to you before you can dress and leave this place. Kathy gave me this jar of stuff to rub on you.” Then she reached in the jar and applied the burning jelly to my penis and also my nipples. Now my whole body felt like it was on fire. Cindy really stroked my penis and balls with the stuff until it was soaking into my skin. She then released me from the wooden X and said, “You can get dressed now. I hope you have learned your lesson.”
I slowly got dressed, remembering that I still had 8 demerits that I would need to take care of as soon as I got back to the city. I knew that I would remember this punishment and never allow my demerits to go above 12 again. “I am beckoned to her and told to hold my hands at my sides while she pulls down my slacks and boxer shorts. She hikes up her skirt and I am ordered over her lap for an over-the-knee bare-bottom spanking. And this is only the beginning!”
Originally posted 2009-08-06 19:46:23.
All my life I have longed to be a total slave to a dominant woman or group of women who daily take delight in a nearly nonstop onslaught of extreme sexual abuse on my person. Each day begins with me being bound underneath their toilet seat and forced to consume any wastes, liquid and solid as they pour out of the orifices. To ensure that I satisfactorily accomplish this, one domme is always posted between my legs with her fingers gripping my cock and balls, squeezing and slapping as needed to ensure full and enthusiastic compliance on my part.
Often, a domme will elect to sit directly on my face and force her shit out into my mouth and up into her ass crack, then make me lick her asscheeks clean and swallow everything. Likewise, I’m forced during the day and night at any moment to apply my open mouth to any proffered cunt to gulp and totally consume a load of hot piss.
Frequent genital whippings, extreme cock and ball torture, including piercing and electro torture would be an ongoing part of each day, and interjected would be whippings, paddlings, spankings, plus savage and prolonged asshole rape, fisting, and rough deep insertions of huge dildos, vegetables and other objects calculated to cause great pain and stretching of my anal tissues.
I would frequently be placed underneath a female sub/slave in 69 position with my cock in her mouth and my mouth opened wide over her cunt. Then her lips would be sutured to the flesh around the base of my cock, and my lips would be sutured to her cunt lips. Our nipples would be sutured together then so that any movement by either one of us would result in severe pain to the sutured tissues.
My wrists are then bound to her ankles, her wrists to my ankles, and spreader bars affixed to hold our limbs wide apart. Next, males slaves would be brought in to ass rape the girl while the dommes take turns doing my ass with their fists and strapons. After several of the male slaves have ejaculated into the female slave’s asshole, their combined cum and her shit begin leaking out, running down her ass crack and into my mouth, seeping between our sewn together lips. Each time a domme pulls out of my asshole, their strapon or fist is wiped clean on the female slaves face and the male slaves wipe their cocks clean on my face.
Naturally all the pumping in and out at our assholes makes for a lot of movement and severe pain in our sewn together parts. During all of this, other dommes are alternating in whipping, paddling and electro torturing each of us at unexpected times and places on our bodies so that we are constantly jerking, convulsing, and moaning with pain and terror.
This torture scene goes on for hours, and occasionally the female slave and I are flipped over so she is underneath me, exposing my back and ass to the whips and paddles. When we are both pushed to utter exhaustion and about to pass out from the extremities of our tortures, each of us is filled with a full gallon enema of saved up piss laced with lots of lemon juice to induce severe cramping. Then our assholes are securely plugged and we are left to suffer for another hour, at which time we are placed in an inflatable wading pool, our ass plugs are removed and a replaced with short flexible plastic tubes which are inserted between the sutures into our mouths and the enemas released. Our instructions are to swallow everything we can, and since that proves to be impossible due to the force and fury with which the enemas are expelled, we find ourselves wallowing helplessly in an increasing depth of our own liquid wastes where we are left for the next few hours, relieved only by those of our tormenters who choose to come piss on us, shit on us, spit on us, jeer at us and humiliate us by naming us as filthsluts and human toilets.
Originally posted 2008-12-25 11:59:57.
Bernard Montorgueil art.
The wackiest idea I ever had for a play that I never wrote came to me on a November day as I chomped into a pumpernickel bagel. That winter my mother’s friend, Hermione, while improving her skiing in Switzerland, had graciously invited me to housesit her apartment on West 73rd.
On Sunday mornings, I would assemble the percolator and dash around the corner to World O’ Bagels. The owner’s daughter always made it a point to take my order herself. “How’s the professor?” she would ask. Her flirtation that particular day prompted her to slide a pumpernickel bagel into the white bakery bag with my standard order of two onion bagels to go. Just possibly, it was the suede patches on my thrift-shop, tweed jacket which prompted the spontaneous love offering.
I finished the crossword in the Times as well as the onion bagels slathered with cream cheese. The slosh of the coffee pot indicated enough for one more mug. To leave the gift bagel uneaten seemed more ungentlemanly than I cared to be. Juggling the postscript to my breakfast, I set the dark brown wheel of a bagel on Hermione’s book-laden coffee table. My boots created a fleeting arc before they landed in the corner by the silk fica trees.
Settling in on the long white sofa, I held the classified section of CityLife magazine propped against my knees. Glancing at the personals — boy wants girl, boy wants boy, boy wants girl and boy, etc. — I simultaneously visualized a play in three acts with seven actors based on these terse ads. I bit into the bagel, quickly realizing that the gooey, crunchy mixture in my mouth was some of my dentist’s best amalgam filling.
Then came the damning tirade wherein bagels and lovestruck teenage girls equally shared my stomping wrath. Vented, but unable to keep my tongue from constantly reaffirming the new crater in my mouth, I returned to the magazine having momentarily forgotten my inspiration for instant success on Broadway.
Under the heading “Professional Help Wanted,” a single boxed ad in reverse type captured my attention. There was haunting poetry in the words “Ghost Writer” appearing in white typeface on a small blanket of black. The ad explained that aspirants for the position should apply in writing to a post office box number stating qualifications and providing a telephone number.
Thoughts of pain and plays died as hope was born. That my cash flow situation might soon change direction and head toward positive motivated me to reply within the hour. The third and final draft of my reply factually listed my recently-acquired master’s degree in English, my just-published chapbook of poems and my immediate availability.
In the event that it might be important to this prospective employer, I emphasized in the last paragraph that I could be counted on in the area of discretion as well as syntax.
After mailing my application, I expected every ring of the telephone to be from this individual, whom I imagined was either too inept or too busy to do his own word work.
On Thursday afternoon, while I was at the New York Public Library researching Union Army military insignia for my poem about the taking of Richmond, the individual who placed the ad phoned. As I retell this, I am aware that I never for an instant believed the placer of the ad to be a woman. In fact, I was right. The voice on my answering machine was male, mature, certainly educated if not also refined — and cautious. The caller politely requested my presence in The Adirondack Hotel bar at six o’clock the following evening for drinks. Ask for Brett Farrington. The bartender would know. A local telephone number was left for “regrets only.”
I chose my clothes for the interview carefully. Jeans and tweeds would not inspire the confidentiality that I had promised, I thought to myself. A business suit? Nah. I wanted him to know that I could write, not prepare his tax returns. Then, it struck me. The combination of grey flannels and blue blazer would be just the ticket. Mainstream enough to be accepted by the establishment and when worn with a natty, navy blue-striped shirt and subdued, red tie, sartorially au courant enough to be recognized as someone in the arts. Yet, at the same time, professional. It was perfect.
Trying to dodge the raindrops, I bolted from the cab and pushed my way through The Adirondack’s revolving doors. When my hand gripped the wet brass push bar, I felt the cold climb up through my arm before it turned and traveled down to my toes. The sensation suddenly froze my self-confidence and left me unaccountably nervous. In retrospect, I recall my instincts warning me that I was about to commence a conversation unlike any other in my life.
In the hallowed confines of The Adirondack’s bar, I counted seven unaccompanied male patrons. Among them, three held down tables by themselves. The others sat at the bar.
The bartender was busy pouring drinks, so I decided to test my skill at matching voices with faces. Scanning the tables, my eyes passed over a middle-aged, gray-suited man wearing a western bola tie, then on to a portly, younger man half-asleep over an imported beer.
The third man, clearly the most venerable of the candidates for Brett Farrington, sat at one of the small round tables apart from the others. He was engrossed in the distinctive peach-colored pages of The Financial Times, which he read through a pair of tortoise shell half-glasses under a small amber circle of light falling from the brass ship’s lantern mounted on the wall above. Momentarily, he looked up from his newspaper and a split second later motioned me to join him.
The resonant, well-defined voice I had heard only as it sounded trapped in my answering machine belonged to this silver-haired man wearing a hand-tailored, three-piece suit. When he stood to greet me, six-footer that I am, I had to look up to meet his eyes. Despite the barroom gloom, I could see he was a man of the outdoors. I’d have immediately cast him for the role of the squire in an English drawing room murder mystery.
We shook hands. Then, came self-introductions, followed by some brief, small talk about the downpour outside. We both took seats, and I told him how I had come to respond to his advertisement. I was about to make reference to some writing projects I had completed, when he interrupted me.
“Unnecessary, my boy. Totally. I assure you,” Farrington declared in clipped, upper-class British tones. He spoke flawless Queen’s English.
“You’re the man for the job,” he continued. “Absolutely no doubt about it. None whatsoever.”
I was frankly puzzled.
“Thank you very much,” I said with some hesitancy. “But, would you like to see some samples of my work or perhaps…”
He interrupted me again. “Nonsense. You are the right man. Your assignment will be to write my life’s story or the parts of it I deem worth the telling.” He squinted a bit, adding, “You are just the person to do it.”
Again, I started to protest. “But, we haven’t discussed a time frame, fees…”
“No need to, my boy. None. Whatever the going rate is in New York these days for this kind of work is what you’ll be paid,” he said. “Plus something extra, of course, for the discretion you claim in your letter.”
His cocksure attitude was beginning to irritate me. “But, I’m not sure that I’m free right now to…”
“Please,” he interrupted, drawing the word out. “Don’t make the mistake of rejecting my offer.” He tugged on his left sleeve, pulling the French cuff back into alignment. “You have a master’s degree with your name still wet on the parchment. You’re living gratis in a flat provided by a family friend, a Hermione something-or-other. You’ve been seeking office work under the auspices of a temporary agency, and you have less than three hundred dollars in your checking account. No money, no prospects, and no girl friend at the moment, for that matter.”
As I sat speechless, he caught the server’s eye and ordered a refill of his tomato and clam juice cocktail. Then, he looked at me questioningly.
“Scotch and water? Water on the side?” he asked me, as the server waited for the order.
Nodding my assent, I was flabbergasted that Farrington obviously had me investigated.
He continued, “You see, my boy, I have a sixth sense about people and their character. It’s a skill one develops — as opposed to a talent one brings into the world at birth.”
Once more, I tried to pose a question. “But how do you…”
“Doesn’t matter. Not in the least. It only matters that the information is one hundred percent accurate,” he said. “Saves a lot of time, really.”
The server delivered our drinks. Farrington briefly sipped from his glass. He obviously engaged his sixth sense to discern the uncertainty that I was feeling.
He leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “Full of misgivings are you? More than a tad incredulous? Feeling a bit railroaded, as we used to say?” He smiled. “Enjoy your drink, my boy. Meanwhile, let me see if I can’t put you at ease.”
At that point I wanted very much to be relaxed and at the same time not lose this chance for solvency that had been dumped in my lap. Was this guy from the CIA or what? The wood smoke aroma of the Scotch helped settle my nerves a bit.
“What I suggest is that we schedule two or three meetings a week, each for a few hours. I’ll start at the beginning — you asking whatever questions come to your mind and taking notes. Perhaps, it might require about three months,” Farrington said. “After that, you’ll have six months to create a first draft. We’ll edit it together, more or less, and in a year or so the book will be completed.”
He took another sip of his drink, then continued, “You’ll make your decision before you leave the table and whatever you decide will be considered final by both of us. I hope I make myself clear.”
He was telling me that I wouldn’t get a second chance and doing it in a style I rather admired. However, I still had one embarrassing question that begged asking.
“With all due respect,” I began. “If you’ll forgive my saying so, as interesting as
we all feel our lives are…well, not everyone has a life story that warrants a major investment of time and money.”
Surprisingly, Farrington appeared to agree. “Quite so, quite so,” he said. Then, he looked at me for a few moments before breaking the silence.
“My boy,” he responded in a paternalistic tone, “if you will kindly sit here with me and your Glenlivet for a bit longer, I’m sure you’ll agree that my story might indeed hold a reader’s interest.”
Farrington leaned slightly forward, cautiously glancing around the room to observe whether anyone might be eavesdropping.
He then continued, “There was an incident that occurred when I was a lad of eighteen that transformed the course and direction of my life. The story I am about to relate will utterly convince you of how unique my experiences have been and at the same time how important a role they played in my life.”
“Seems fair enough,” I replied.
Farrington then began to recount one of the strangest stories I have ever heard.
“It was the summer of 1937. We were living in Hampstead — one of the London suburbs — and my father had accepted a summer teaching post in Nigeria. Arrangements had been made for me to stay with my mother’s sister, Lydia, and her husband in Gloucestershire.
“Aunt Lydia and Uncle Malcolm lived on a country estate complete with stables, tennis court and even a running brook. I had visited there before and was most fond of my aunt and uncle. And though I didn’t know it at the time, this visit was to be quite different.
“First, I might note that Aunt Lydia married Uncle Malcolm when both had reached middle age. They had no children of their own. However, Uncle Malcolm’s brother had a son and a daughter, both of whom were doted upon by Uncle Malcolm.
“Upon my arrival, I learned that my visit was to coincide with that of my uncle’s aforementioned nephew and niece, Nigel and Alexa.
“Nigel and I instantly became fast friends. He was a year younger than I, and as lads often do, he saw me as a role model. Alexa, who was nineteen, was scarcely by a year my senior. However, her bearing and poise were those of a well-bred young lady. There was nothing in the least skittish about her, if you know what I mean.”
Farrington paused momentarily to pick up his drink from the table, took a few sips, then continued.
“The first few weeks of the summer vacation were idyllic. Nigel and I wandered the acreage, exploring, discovering small animals, fishing and swimming in an inviting pond on the estate.
“Then, one night at dinner, quite unexpectedly, Uncle Malcolm announced to us that he and Aunt Lydiawere leaving early the next morning for Devon, where his dear friend, a Mr. Wilcox, lay seriously ill. They would be away for an indefinite period. We were to obey the housekeeper, Mrs. Collings, he admonished us. However, he was designating his niece, Alexa, as the senior family member, to act as official head of household during his absence.”
Another sip of scotch traveled down my throat. It knew it’s way by now.
“My uncle’s announcement left no particular impression on me, and following their departure the next morning, Nigel and I resumed our explorations.
“I should add here that during my eighteenth year, I was in that stage of development which many youths find rather awkward,” he said. At the same time, he briefly peered at me over his half-glasses, perhaps to gauge my reaction.
I nodded to let him know I understood.
Farrington wore a wafer-slim Movado watch on his left wrist, but yet referred to puberty in such a circumspect way. Nice anomaly here, I thought.
He continued, “One morning, Nigel and I were on our way to the woods, taking a path that brought us near the stables. As we approached, I could see that Alexa was leading a freshly-saddled horse toward the large oval riding ring. I turned my head in curiosity as I had always liked horses. Nigel tugged at my arm, impatient as youngsters often are, but I resisted him and walked nearer to the ring. Nigel followed me reluctantly, and we both took up spectator positions along the fence railings.
“Alexa and her horse, a well-proportioned, dappled gray stallion with a distinctive black mane and tail, had already reached the inside of the ring. In case you might be curious as to whether I was attracted by the horse or the rider, let me make it clear that it was not the horse.
“I’ll tell you what my eyes saw: Alexa was strikingly tall. She stood about five feet nine inches. She was full-bodied and most attractive,” he added, peering over his glasses once more to see if I was following.
“I saw not a ‘pretty girl,’ but a very handsome young woman who was preparing to mount a splendid-looking and spirited animal,” he said.
“It was a magnificent summer day — quite rare in England, you know — and the sunlight played on her chestnut brown hair, which was rich with color. That morning, she wore her hair in neat braids, pinned up and wrapped closely around her head.”
Farrington had me hooked, and I now listened intently. The way his eyes lighted up, undoubtedly from a passion that still burned inside him, told me that this young woman would play no small part in his biography.
“Her face wore her intelligence,” he continued. “Young as she was, one knew just by looking at her that she would be the responsible sort. She appeared strong of character, yet not at the cost of her femininity.
“For some reason, when I focused my attention on her that morning, it was as if I were seeing her for the first time, and as such, the occasion is recalled with extreme vividness. Every detail is as clear in my mind’s eye today as it was that summer day, many years ago.
“Alexa rode in a pair of fawn breeches. They fitted her perfectly, I might add. Her well-defined, long legs were anchored to the earth by the tall, brown boots she wore. The boots were equipped with spurs.
“Her abundant bosom swelled within a long-sleeved, white shirt contrasted by a wide burgundy tie, which was the style among equestrians at that time.
“I watched her pull on a pair of tight-fitting leather riding gloves, then cover the luxurious crown of her braided hair with a black velvet-covered protective helmet. Firmly positioned in her right hand was a thick brown leather riding crop.
“She mounted, took up the double reins and, using her heels, signaled the animal to walk. After a few minutes, she called on him to trot. When he failed to immediately obey her, using her whip — while seated tall in the saddle — she resolutely applied a couple of well-placed smacks to his rump. Simultaneously, she applied her gleaming, chrome-plated spurs — each with their tiny sharp rowels — to her mount’s flanks with exacting precision. “Her facial expression, however, betrayed no indication of displeasure. Nor did I notice any sign of satisfaction when he, receiving her message, promptly fell into a trot. As a matter of fact, she appeared without emotion during the entire transaction. It was as though she were driving an automobile and had merely shifted gears.
“For the next half hour, I stood at the rail mesmerized. New feelings came alive inside my lanky body. And I tell you, quite honestly, that had my life depended upon it, I could not have given a name to what I was experiencing. There was warm pleasure and chilly confusion in equal parts, and, more significantly, somewhere deep within my psyche, a sense of…not danger, but risk. At that moment, an explanation of what was happening to me would have been impossible. But, I tell you the sense that I had just crossed over into a universe I’d not previously known was as immense and as real as this table.”
He thumped the table with the side of his fist causing me to start and the drinks to slosh in unison.
As Farrington unwound his tale, I began to feel a rumble inside and sent my facial muscles stern orders to display a poker face until further notice.
How was it that he chose me to write his biography? No doubt, an unemployment line filled with starving writers replied to his ad. Why not one of them? Was it simply chance or did he really possess a sixth sense?
Farrington continued, “My eyes had no choice but to follow her every motion. She sat erect and regal in the saddle. Her attitude was serious and businesslike, and she tolerated no nonsense from her mount. Whatever exercises she and the horse embarked upon — be it changing leads, moving him from a trot into a canter or taking jumps — the maneuvers were executed with precision and full self-confidence on her part. It was quite clear that she maintained complete control over him at all times.
“Whenever he failed to respond at once to her command or in the particular manner she wished, she wasted not a moment in correcting him. After pulling him up and taking a tight hold on the reins with one hand, she masterfully applied her whip to his ample flanks, administering truly meaningful punishment.
“What impressed me was both her remarkable strength and her determination. Throughout, she never wavered nor lost her patience. Quite the contrary, she delivered each smack to the animal’s backside without discernible change in her composure.”
Farrington paused to take another sip from his glass, while again glancing over at me. Poker face, don’t fail me now!
He resumed, “It became abundantly clear to me that she demanded absolute obedience from her mount, willing or unwilling, and she exacted it.
“Interestingly, however, she never seemed to take any notice of my presence. Nigel wandered off, only to reappear a half-hour later to learn what had become of me. He again tugged at my arm. He coaxed me to accompany him, but I brushed him aside. Finally, I yielded, realizing that remaining there might cause him to ask questions I didn’t want to answer or that his high-pitched voice — it hadn’t changed yet — might draw attention.
“We turned toward the woods and walked together about a quarter mile before I begged off, saying that I must return to the house in order to write a letter to my parents, which needed to go into the morning post.
“On the return walk to the manor, my imagination carried me away and my arousal was so great that I dared not be seen in such a condition. When I entered the foyer, the housekeeper, Mrs. Collings, was engrossed in straightening a large oil portrait of someone’s dusty relative. Her back was toward me, so I greeted her and just as quickly ascended the wide staircase to the second floor, where I immediately went to my room. I was relieved that the housekeeper’s eyes had not rested upon me as my trousers were outstretched in a most embarrassing fashion.
“Once inside my room, I fell onto the bed and for a short time daydreamed of Alexa astride her mount. I recalled every morsel of the vivid episode I had just witnessed in the riding ring. Feeding my youthful exhuberance, I lay absorbed with the image of this poised equestrian while completely lost in fantasy. I was at the center of my own illusion with Alexa circling me round and round until I felt a pulsating vortex had been created wherein I swirled in rapturous delight. Alexa, on the stallion, rode through my whole being, and as I let go of the last vestiges of rationality, I saw her dismount the horse and come astride me. Instantly, as it is in dreams, she was free of her riding breeches, shirt and tall boots, and her long chestnut brown hair was loose and flowing over her proud and generous breasts. Now, I was miraculously naked also and we were locked in a passionate and frenzied embrace.
“When I realized that I could no longer endure the exquisite torment of this sexual fantasy, I hastened to the private bath adjoining my room, where I quickly disrobed. My intention was to seek relief under the shower, invoking pubescent youth’s dependable standby — copious amounts of soap and running hot water.
“However, completely unbeknownst to me, Mrs. Collings, a rather prudish woman, had come to my room to see if I might have taken ill. I had locked the bedroom door before stepping into the shower, and had no idea — none whatever — that my privacy would be invaded.
“Later, I learned that Mrs. Collings had knocked and waited for a reply which wasn’t forthcoming. She then used her housekeeper’s key to unlock the door and entered the bedroom to make certain that all was well. When she found the bedroom unoccupied, she proceeded toward the bathroom. Evidently, her eyesight was not failing, and she got quite a start, or so she claimed, when she opened the door, which wasn’t fitted with a lock, and saw my rather active endeavors silhouetted against the almost transparent shower curtain.”
The server came and again exchanged empty glasses for full ones.
“It turned out,” Farrington continued, “at the moment the housekeeper was descending the stairs while ranting about my misbehavior, Alexa was returning from the stable. One can only guess exactly what Mrs. Collings reported to her; but whatever it was, it was enough to put me in serious trouble.
“Alexa, upon receiving the housekeeper’s report, took it upon her shoulders, as acting head of household, to deal with the matter promptly. She informed Mrs. Collings that she would take responsibility for administering discipline and dispatched her to return to her duties.”
I felt warm. Maybe it was the Scotch. Meanwhile, Farrington took a sip of his drink in a most dignified manner.
He then continued, “Unaware of what was occuring outside the shower stall, I was in a state of high excitement and nearing a peak, when over the roar of the shower I heard a noise. It was an unmistakable sound — the clip-clop of hard-heeled English riding boots on the bathroom tile floor. My boyish heart nearly stopped beating when the shower curtain was unceremoniously drawn back and I was exposed.”
Farrington leaned back in his chair and adjusted his cuffs.
“Well, there I stood. Lathered all over, flagpole and all. Quite a predicament, don’t you see?”
I did understand.
“Appearing before me, however, was not the awakening embodiment of my morning’s dream — a lover with whom I was about to share an intimate encounter — but instead, the real Alexa. Quite real, I must tell you. Her commanding presence filled the steamy bathroom as she stood majestically, hands on hips, glaring at me. In her left hand, she clutched her gloves. In her right, she firmly grasped her riding crop.
“At that moment, I was suffering so from the shock of discovery that I briefly saw two images standing before me. One, the infuriated acting head of household, poised only a few feet from my naked body; the other, Alexa the goddess of passion, fresh out of my fantasy. The images blurred into one another, and I likely had a most confused look upon my face. Though, it wasn’t my face that got me into this bit of a fix.”
Farrington halted momentarily to allow the effect to settle on me. It settled, God knows, and I swallowed extra hard before he continued.
“‘Rinse yourself and come out of that shower immediately, young man,’ Alexa ordered. ‘And get rid of that disgusting thing,’ she said, motioning toward the uprisen source of my embarrassment.
“I managed to get the soap off my body and wrap a Turkish towel around my waist. Quivering with fear, I walked back into the bedroom. Alexa was slowly pacing the floor. Her every stride exuded determination. ‘Lie down,’ she commanded, pointing to the bed. ‘And you shan’t need that towel,’ she said, snapping it away from my loins, again exposing my embarrassment.
“She subsequently proceeded to deliver a lecture on the loathsomeness of my misbehavior, emphasizing that such wrongdoing was abhorrent and couldn’t be tolerated among the well-bred.
“Then, while carefully measuring each word, she informed me that as acting head of household it was her duty to administer required discipline when necessary.
“As she spoke, I noticed her cheeks take on added color and her breathing become more rapid. Otherwise, her composure betrayed absolutely no sign of emotion.
“Here was I, meanwhile, a post-pubescent 18-year-old, awaiting chastisement from a contemporary. I must confess, however, that Alexa’s poise and bearing far outdistanced her actual years.
“I lay face down on the bed, sinking into the valleys of the duvet, with my head turned sideways and my eyes riveted to her. Although, I knew the fate that was to be mine, I felt totally powerless to either flee or resist. My will seemed to be momentarily lost. Meanwhile, all of me remained fixed upon the statuesque young horsewoman.
“Long-legged, she stood tall and imposing in her tight-fitting breeches and polished leather riding boots.
“At the same moment, I was moved by how fastidious she still appeared in her starched, long-sleeved white shirt and burgundy tie. A brown woven leather belt accentuated her trim waist.
“Every strand of her lovely braided hair lay in its proper place on her head, no doubt each one fearful, lest any move incur its owner’s wrath. Her long eyelashes shielded her limpid green eyes.
“After a moment’s pause, she looked down her elegant aquiline nose at me. I tried to speak, but couldn’t.
“Wearing an expression of detachment on her pale face, she coolly informed me that as a young man of my position, I was obliged to accept her punishment.
“Then, in a businesslike manner, she pulled on her tight-fitting doeskin gloves while tucking her crop under her arm. Once prepared, she raised her heavy riding whip.
“After flexing it several times, she thwacked its looped keeper against the flat of her gloved hand, as if to measure the instrument’s effectiveness. As she did so, I could see that the braided leather crop was quite thick, though pliable in the hands of its user.
“Apparently satisfied, Alexa proceeded with my humiliation, laying on strokes which delivered scorching hellfire to my backside. I was in agony, and yet in my consciousness I was aware that each stroke was masterfully applied. At no time during the punishment did I cry out, whimper or plead for leniency.
“Later, when I examined myself in the mirror, I saw the near-perfect lattice work of red and blue weals on my chastisted bottom, which Alexa had left as her signature.
“The flogging lasted perhaps five minutes. Afterward, the only words she spoke were, ‘You may get dressed now.’
“Then, with her whip permitted to dangle casually from a wrist loop around her right hand, she strolled out of the room, perfectly relaxed, as though nothing out of the ordinary had arisen.”
The awe in Farrington’s voice was unmistakable.
“At first, I was totally devastated by the humiliation of the punishment,” he recalled. “Then, there was the throbbing pain all across my loins and buttocks — added to that my churning inner emotions.
“Astoundingly, at that moment, I again found myself in a heightened state of arousal — one even more passionate and intense than existed earlier. I had been caught…interrupted in the act and summarily disciplined. Now, I could only envision Alexa and recall the events of the last few hours — over and over again. And in every delicious and lustful detail.”
“When did you next see her?” I asked, unable to hold my curiosity.
Farrington smiled. “Patience is a virtue you must learn to cultivate, my boy.”
He continued, “I next set eyes upon her a few hours later at dinner. I felt I had no choice but to appear in the dining room at my place at the table. The mere act of sitting down in a chair was a challenge, much less having to face Alexa.
“She presided, as usual, at the head of the table in Uncle Malcolm’s place. We all said our ‘good evenings,’ and I prayed, as only the young can, that my inner thoughts could not be discerned by anyone at table.
“During the dinner, we made polite conversation, though I participated with great reluctance. I knew that my bottom was red and suspected that my face perhaps was even more so. I dared not look directly into Alexa’s eyes. I only stole glances at her when she addressed Nigel who sat directly opposite me.
“It was difficult to believe that this well-bred young lady, observing all the social niceties and spreading mint jelly on a dainty bite of lamb, was the same individual who hours earlier had invaded my privacy, stripped me down to a naked state, observed my shame, then administered as severe a whipping as I had ever received.
“When the meal was ended, I made a feeble excuse to avoid joining the others for an evening of backgammon and returned to my room. I again lay on the bed, my state of agitation heightened. Although my buttocks still smarted from the painful horsewhipping, my loins ached with desire for Alexa, who had punished me so unforgivingly.
“I felt I couldn’t risk attempting self-relief in my room, since I might be discovered. So, I returned downstairs, casually mentioning to Mrs. Collings that I was going out for some fresh air. I then proceeded to wander the grounds in the darkness.
“During my walk, the entire focus of my concentration was upon my uncle’s singular niece. The thought of her drove me almost mad.
“At the same time, I frantically sought relief from the pent up thrust of passion within me. I soon came upon the greenhouse, let myself in and felt my lungs fill with the air made fragrant by orchids and frangipanis. The moonlight passing through the slanted glass windows permitted me to find my way through the cultivated jungle. I moved along the aisles, my body rustling the thick foliage into murmurs of welcome as I searched for privacy. The atmosphere was heavy with moisture and the lushness surrounding me fostered my animal instincts all the more.
“Soon, I arrived in the banana grove and took shelter within it, hidden by giant scheffleras planted nearby. It was there that I could finally obtain relief by my own hand. So urgent was my passion, it ended almost as soon as it began.
“However, only moments after I felt my drive ebb, it suddenly surged again, as my brain and body were electrified by memories of the handsome horsewoman astride her stallion. Once again, my hand was my lover, enabling me to escape the torture of unfulfilled desire. At least three more times I indulged myself. When I was exhausted, I wiped myself on one of the large leaves of a plant close at hand.
“I returned to the house, perhaps aware for the first time that the strange and wonderful events of the day had been indelibly imprinted upon my mind. As it turned out, they would become a lifelong legacy.
“That night, I had great difficulty falling asleep. My bottom and my loins still throbbed from the severe punishment. Blisters had begun to show themselves. Even worse, my libido now seemed in overdrive. I could only fantasize about Alexa and hunger for both her love and her punishment.”
“Was that craving ever satisfied?” I asked.
Farrington shot me a look of disapproval. My first mistake. Ask no direct questions, I thought. Just let him tell his story.
“Young man, I repeat, you must learn the virtue of patience,” Farrington admonished. “One mustn’t hurry the telling of a story.
“The days and weeks passed quickly. Each moment, I longed to be in Alexa’s presence. At first, the evening dinner was my only opportunity. However, being seated in such proximity to her only deepened my heart’s starvation. I was determined to find another way to be near her.
“I soon contrived a plan which called for me to venture past the stables during mid-morning, when I knew she would be working her stallion in the ring. I did so, intending to use the pretext of my growing interest in horses. As I waited for her, I watched her ride.
“When she had finished her training and dismounted, I put forward my offer to help her around the stable in whatever way I might be useful and placed myself at her disposal. She readily accepted my offer. Thereafter, she would oblige me by assigning such duties as cleaning her saddle and stirrup leathers or mucking stalls. Eventually, she taught me brushing and grooming.”
“Did that lead to anything?” I asked.
“Yes, but not exactly what I had hoped for,” replied Farrington.
He continued, “The embarrassing incident in the shower was never mentioned. Meanwhile, Alexa approached her relationship with me very much like that of a teacher toward her pupil. Though she seemed engaging and outwardly friendly, she remained aloof. To my great disappointment, there was not as much as a hint on her part of any romantic interest.
“It was terribly frustrating. There were times when I hungered so for her touch in an intimate way that I recklessly considered repeating my misbehavior to provoke her into disciplining me again. But, I decided against it.
“One day, after watching her take her stallion through his daily routine in the ring, I was busy cleaning her saddle, when I heard Alexa call to me. Watching her ride earlier that morning had been a very emotional experience for me, and at that particular moment I remained greatly aroused. During the morning workout, she had held extraordinarily high expectations of her mount, and when he failed to perform to her rigid standards, she smartly took him up, then punished him severely until her arm tired. After witnessing this event, I tried desperately to control my passions, though my memory of it seemed to overpower the rational being inside me. You see, I wanted Alexa’s attention — in any form — all for myself.
“However, when I heard Alexa call, I immediately dropped the task at hand and hurried to her. She stood in the stable tack room, resplendent in her riding clothes while looking at herself in an old mirror which hung on the wall. She held a comb and brush in her hand. Her long hair had been released from the confinement of its braided and tightly pinned-up style and now cascaded naturally, in splendor, over her shoulders. I had not seen her this way before, except within my active imagination, and I envied those broad shoulders the weight of every strand of her hair.
“I stood there, almost in reverence, prepared to pledge her my fealty forevermore, should she only ask. But instead, she handed her brush to me. It had natural bristles set into a silver backing whereon her initials were sensuously mingled, much as she and I were entwined in my dreams. She directed me to brush out her hair. She explained that a couple of hairpins had slipped out while she was cantering her mount and her braids had fallen loose.
“My hands trembled as I held the brush. As best I could, I drew the brush through the magnificent chestnut tresses which I had longed, but yet not dared, to touch. My passions soared out of control. I feared that any moment my secret might be exposed by telltale signs on my trousers. I prayed to be spared such embarrassment.
“Patiently, she instructed me on precisely how she wished for me to tend her. ‘Brett, you must first grasp my hair mid-length and brush from there down. Then, move up and repeat the process. That will separate the tangles and bring me no discomfort.’ Her back was toward me, but she could observe my image in the mirror which she faced. Likewise, standing behind her, I could admire her superior facial features — combining both beauty and strength — in the same mirror.
“Dedicated to my task, I followed her instructions to the letter and brushed and brushed. As I did so, I noticed how each silken strand gleamed and shimmered as radiantly as she out of whose head they grew.
“After a few minutes, Alexa turned from the mirror to face me. She gently took the brush from my hand and informed me she would herself complete the final steps of braiding and pinning. She thanked me and I was dismissed.
“I returned to my room only long enough to pick up a knapsack, then hurried out to seek a place of refuge and relief. I realized, of course, that I could not use the greenhouse in broad daylight.
“While hiking through the adjacent woods, I came upon a glade quite overgrown with grape ivy, where I felt I would not be observed. It was perfect for my needs.
“I relieved my pulsating urge, immediately exploding in homage to Alexa. But, moments afterward, I found myself struggling in my mind to guess what motivation lay behind her pattern. Was she really unaware of my worship for her? Was she teasing me?
“Did you ever find out?” I asked. This time, Farrington only grimaced slightly. Perhaps, he was becoming accustomed to my style of interviewing.
“No,” he replied. “It drove me wild. I felt helpless to act. Meanwhile, I could only dwell upon images of the tall disciplinarian in riding attire. Thoughts of her consumed my every moment.
“You see, I was a relatively naive lad,” he explained. “Had I known then what I knew a few years later, I would have been much more bold. But, I didn’t know anything about women. I didn’t yet possess a man’s knowledge and experience.
“I kept asking myself, ‘Did Alexa find some peculiar satisfaction or excitement in teasing me? Or was she herself somehow inhibited from expressing any romantic interest?’ It was terrible. I had no one from whom I could seek advice.
“A difficult situation,” I ventured, attempting to appear less direct.
“Quite,” Farrington agreed. “There were only a few weeks of holiday remaining. I felt surely she must have noticed from my eyes, my facial expression, the way I looked at her in the riding ring or at the dinner table that I was smitten beyond salvation. But, she kept her aloofness and there never arrived an opportunity for me to express my feelings…my overwhelming admiration for her.”
“Were there goodbyes?” I asked.
“Indeed,” Farrington replied. “My parents came to collect me on their return from Africa. Aunt Lydia and Uncle Malcolm had not yet returned home.
“It all was rather formal. I introduced Nigel and Alexa to my parents. Then, I addressed Alexa, telling her how much I enjoyed her company. I expressed my thanks for her instruction in the care and grooming of horses. Finally, I bowed humbly to her as I told her goodbye. I noticed a trace of a smile form on her lips as I did so. Was she perhaps smiling in satisfaction? It remained a mystery.
“Alexa, in turn, bade me goodbye in a manner which can best be described as correct and proper. There was absolutely no sign of warmth or emotion in her voice. I was deeply disappointed, but I didn’t let my feelings show. Nigel and I shook hands, and it was over. My parents drove me home. My summer holiday had ended. And, yet, it’s never ended.”
“Did you ever see her again?” I asked.
“Many years later,” Farrington replied. “But, that would be taking us ahead of the story.
“Meanwhile, I was sent off to school. Then the war came. I enlisted in the army when I was eighteen. My parents objected, but I fancied myself a patriot and was in a uniform in a matter of weeks. First came Dunkirk — that was a fiasco. Later, North Africa under Montgomery. Finally, Normandy. I received a field commission and departed with a captain’s rank when the war ended. The war years matured all of us young chaps rather quickly.”
“Did you think about Alexa often?” I asked.
“Constantly,” answered Farrington. “Just the thought of her was enough to deliver me into another world — a sanctuary where I dwelled on passionate memories combined with my own fantasies. It kept my mind occupied when I lay in a muddy foxhole for days.
“When I returned home, one of the first things I did was contact Uncle Malcolm and Aunt Lydia. I telephoned saying I was home from the war and was eager to visit them. They were glad to see me and relieved that I had returned in one piece. Many of the lads, you know, came back missing an arm, a leg…it was a terrible, terrible war. But, that is war, isn’t it?”
Farrington summoned the server, requesting that his tab be transferred to the dining room since we would be going in to dine, shortly. He glanced in my direction, seeking my approval, which he received in the form of a nod of my head.
“You had gone to visit your aunt and uncle after the war,” I prompted.
“Ah, yes,” Farrington said, returning to his narrative. “They asked me about my combat experiences, and we talked about the war for quite a while. Then, I discreetly inquired about Nigel and Alexa. Almost apologetically, Uncle Malcolm explained that his nephew had been too young to enter the war and only recently had begun his studies at Cambridge. He said Alexa had taken a degree in English literature and was hired to fill a teaching position in Leeds. She had been introduced to an eligible gentleman, a chartered accountant, and they were married a few years ago. There was no mention of any children.
“I was dispirited, to say the least. But, I was careful not to let my disappointment show.
“Following that visit, I resisted attempts by my parents to help me enroll in university. I had no interest in a profession or anything else, for that matter. I was restless. I knew that I needed something new. The farther away, the better. Turn a new leaf and all that, you know.
“An army comrade had no trouble inducing me to join him in taking a job with an Australian mining venture. The pay was excellent and filled with opportunity. I learned the business in a snap. Advancing in the corporate structure was no problem at all. My positions required travel to other distant locations to open new explorations — Africa, New Guinea, Malaysia, Chile, Bolivia. It got me away, and that’s what I needed.
“After a few years, I became a partner in the firm. Both the company and I prospered. In the early 1960s, we were acquired by an international conglomerate. By that time, I held a substantial share in the company, so I ended up with a packet. I wasn’t yet forty years old and had most of my life in front of me. I was too young to retire.”
“So what did you do?” I asked.
“Well, I never could dislodge from my mind the memory of that summer’s experience. No matter how busy I was with my travels or responsibilities, my internal world still revolved around the handsome young horsewoman whose hair I brushed every night in my dreams.
“Of course, I now had economic freedom. But, what would I do with it? I invested heavily in blue chip income property, mostly office complexes and commercial buildings, in San Francisco, Boston and Dallas. I’ve never had much confidence in securities. You know, the stock market, bonds and other such.
“Then, one day I turned over responsibility for the properties to a management firm. I wanted to escape the humdrum of daily routine and seek adventure.
“Since most of my investments were here and I liked America, I decided to explore the States.
“I was especially keen to learn once and for all whether there existed other women who possessed some of the traits and characteristics I witnessed in Alexa.
“You see, I was so heavily occupied with work during those post-war years that I had been too busy for the opposite sex.”
“So, you thought that maybe you could repeat the experience somehow?” I asked. “Or perhaps something along those lines?”
“Yes, ‘something along those lines’ is a perfect way to phrase it,” said Farrington. “You are good with words. As I knew you would be.”
He continued, “As it turned out, and quite to my surprise, I encountered more than just a few of these women who seek the upper hand.
“I also learned that I’m not alone in this world as concerns my sexual preferences. During my travels, I determined from personal conversations as well as second-hand accounts that a sizeable percentage of American men share my penchant. It’s simply not often talked about. You know, taboo.
“Anyway, my explorations took me through almost every state as well as an occasional trip abroad. My Odyssey required several years to complete.”
“You must have some fascinating stories to tell.” I said.
“Precisely,” Farrington answered. “And I will be sharing these with you — all in due course. It will take a few months to complete the telling of these stories.
“Meanwhile, I’ve rented an apartment for you on Riverside Drive. It’s fully furnished, of course. I’ve taken a year’s lease on it.
“We can work there if that’s convenient for you. Mornings are best for me. We can meet every other day or so, and on alternate days you can transcribe your notes or whatever it is that writers do.”
He looked at me pointblank. “Will that be satisfactory?”
“Uh, sure. I mean yes,” I answered. Stunned, I hesitated whether I should ask for a package figure. Before I could decide, however, Farrington dealt with the sticky issue as if it were Teflon-coated.
“As far as compensation is concerned, I believe you can deduce that this manuscript is very important to me,” Farrington said. “How would $50,000 seem to you? If it’s satisfactory, I’ll have a contract for you to sign at our next meeting along with an advance payment check. After that, progress payments along the way.”
“That’s fine,” I gulped. It was far more than I had expected for such a job. And, he was throwing in an apartment, rent free.
Farrington removed a business card from a small, silver-trimmed alligator case. The card was engraved with his name only. He took out a Mont Blanc fountain pen and wrote the address of the Riverside Driveapartment on the card, then handed it to me along with a key.
“Would Thursday morning at ten be a suitable time to begin work?” Farrington asked.
“No problem,” I answered, eager to get started. In truth, my enthusiasm was as much the product of what I anticipated hearing as it was the fee he was going to pay me. The old gent had certainly been around, and judging from what I had already heard, this was to be something I wouldn’t want to miss.
I knew the interview was over, but I couldn’t stop myself from posing one more question.
“Mr. Farrington, I hope you don’t mind my asking,” I persisted, “but when did you see Alexa again?”
Farrington smiled. I surmised that he probably knew that Alexa was now on my mind, too. He rolled his chair back from the cocktail table. We both stood up.
“You’ll have to be satisfied when I tell you that all loose ends will be neatly tied up before we conclude our work,” he assured me.
“Come my boy,” he said, patting me on the shoulder as he steered me into The Adirondack’s dining room. “Let’s see what Chef Jean Claude has to offer as his delectable specialty tonight. Perhaps, a rack of lamb or something that calls for a good, robust Burgundy. Or maybe, a Pomerol? You do like wine, I trust?”
Continued from prior post.
I heard the bedroom door open at about 4 a.m. Diane stood at the door
and switched on the light. She had a wry smile on her face and walked to
the bed. Slowly she bent down to kiss me. As our lips touched, she took
my head in her hands and held me tightly to her. I felt her tongue brush
against my lips and I opened my mouth to accept her devilish tongue.
Instead, a mouthful of come fell from her mouth and into mine. I
instantly realized that she had blown her lover (or lovers) just before
coming into the house. Knowing that her sexual act had taken place right
outside the front door and only seconds before seeing me excited me beyond
belief and for the second time that night, my cock erupted without being
touched. Diane laughed at my predicament. “I’ll have to tell Dave how
much you like his come!” she taunted. Then she went into the bathroom and
returned with my razor. Handing it to me she said, “You may come back to
bed when you’re baby smooth again.” As I took the razor and headed for
the shower she called after me, “Be sure you don’t cut off anything
important!” and laughing, crawled into bed and quickly fell asleep.
A month later found me opening an envelope which contained three photos.
The first showed Diane on her hands and knees sucking on Steve’s cock with
Dave kneeling behind her and literally ripping her panties off of her.
The second shot showed her still sucking Steve’s cock, but now Dave’s cock
was buried in her pussy. The last photo was a close-up of her face. She
was drenched with come, some splattered in her hair and some dripping from
her lips. The photo also showed the end of Steve’s cock and come was
dripping from it as well.
That morning, Diane had made a point of having me fetch a pair of panties
for her. I knew, therefore, that she had left for work that morning
wearing a pair of blue bikini panties. I learned the purpose of this show
when Diane strolled in at about 1 a.m. She let her dress fall to the
floor as she walked into the bedroom leaving her in nothing but her garter
belt, hose and high heels. Kicking off her shoes she climbed on top of me
and lowered her dripping cunt to my mouth. Without saying a word she
began to ride my tongue. She rubbed her pussy back and forth across my
chin which often made my tongue slip from her pussy and brush her asshole.
Both her pussy and ass were slick with sperm. When she finally came, she
rolled off of me and retrieved her purse. Reaching inside she pulled out
her blue panties. Holding them gingerly, it was plain to see that they
had been ripped and torn and the waistband had been broken. Climbing back
on the bed, Diane wrapped the panties around my cock and began to
masturbate me. With her permission, I came in the panties. She milked me
dry and used the panties to soak up all of the sperm. She pushed the
panties into my mouth and then went to sleep.
The next month’s packet of pictures contained a picture of Diane cleaning
the come from Steve’s cock. The second photo was a close-up of her ass
showing come dripping from her pussy and a glob of sperm spurting from the
end of Dave’s prick and headed for her ass.
Diane didn’t come home until 9 a.m. the next morning. She strolled in
with a wistful smile on her face. She greeted the children, gave me a
deep kiss while discreetly squeezing my cock. She said she needed some
sleep and headed toward the bedroom. As she walked down the hall, I saw
that the juices from her pussy were literally running down her legs!
During the next week my wife told me that Dave had the ability to prolong
his own orgasm which enabled him to give her multiple orgasms every time
he fucked her. She decided that I needed to learn this technique and
proceeded on a training regimen. After achieving one or two orgasms from
my tongue or from one of her vibrators, Diane would then have me fuck her
in a position of her choosing. I was not to come until she had granted
her permission. If I was unable to wait until her command, then the next
evening, instead of enjoying intercourse, I would be required to
masturbate while looking through my photo album and the moment I started
to come, Diane would begin to spank me with a leather paddle. Toward the
end of the month, I was actually making some progress in my self-control.
On the Friday that I was expecting my wife to announce her next escapade,
the city was having a terrible rainstorm. I was awaiting her usual
telephone call and was, therefore, surprised when the receptionist buzzed
my office and told me Diane was in the lobby. I went to the lobby and
greeted her with a chaste kiss. She had on her London Fog raincoat that
was buttoned tightly. She told me that she was going out and instructed
me on what to fix the kids for dinner. I was still confused as to why she
had decided to deliver her message in person. I walked her to the
elevator and kissed her good-bye. She stepped into the empty elevator and
as the doors began closing she opened her coat to show that all she was
wearing were her shoes!
A few hours later I was opening another envelope to find one picture.
Diane was laying on a table. The photo was taken at the end of the table
so her pussy was in the foreground and her head in the background of the
picture. She was still dressed in only her high heels, garter belt and
hose. Steve and Dave were on either side of the table sucking on her
tits. Her legs were spread wide and there was the hand of a third man
fingering her pussy.
I awoke when the lights suddenly came on. It was 3 a.m. and Diane was
standing at the door, still in her raincoat. She ordered me out of bed
and used her handcuffs to secure my hands behind my back. She then got a
scarf and used it to blindfold me. Pushing me into a chair I heard her
unbuttoning her coat and letting it fall to the floor. She grabbed my
cock and her soft caress quickly brought it to a full erection.
Straddling me she slid down on to my shaft. Her pussy was wet and sloshy
from her lovers’ come. She pulled my head to her breasts and told me to
lick just her nipples. I dutifully complied as she began to slide up and
down my cock. After a few minutes she untied the blindfold and let it
fall away. I had continued to lick her nipples so my eyes were only
inches from her breasts. Her breasts were covered with small, purple
hickeys! The sight was so exciting that I came without her permission.
After having me lick my come – and that of her lovers – from her pussy,
she told me that I would have to pay for my transgression.
The next day my wife made a phone call and said that she would be going
shopping later. About an hour later the phone rang and she answered it
and had a quick conversation. Hanging up the phone, she grabbed her purse
and went into the garage calling back over her shoulder, “Don’t wait up!”
Although I heard the garage door open and close, I didn’t hear her car
starting. A few minutes later I checked the garage and saw that her car
was still parked there. My cock swelled at the idea of my wife out on
At midnight I awoke as my naked wife was climbing onto my face. She had
a powerful orgasm as I licked her pussy clean. Rolling off of me, she
gave me a paper bag and ordered me to open it. Inside I found a leather
hood which would completely cover the eyes and ears of the wearer leaving
only an opening for the mouth, a ball gag and an eight inch plastic dildo
which ended in a studded mound which was clearly meant to rest against a
woman’s vagina. The fake cock was attached to a harness to fasten it
around a woman’s waist. My wife ordered me to fetch my handcuffs and some
K-Y Jelly. She fastened my hands behind my back and inserted the ball gag
in my mouth. Ordering me to kneel on the bed, she then took her time
stepping into the harness and adjusting the fake cock. A few minutes
later she climbed on the bed and I learned what it felt like to be fucked
up the ass. She continued humping me until we had both come. She pulled
out of my ass and I fell forward in a lump. She let me sleep with the
handcuffs and ball gag in place. During the next month, Diane fucked me
with her fake cock at least ten times. She insisted that I prolong my
orgasm until given permission and failure meant an immediate spanking. By
the end of the month, I was finally getting some small measure of control.
Our anniversary was at the end of the month and we made plans to go out
to dinner alone on that night with a close friend of Diane’s baby-sitting
the kids. I was quite surprised though to find an envelope tucked under
my pillow the night before our date. I asked Diane why I was getting the
pictures before her night out and she just said, “Some things came up.”
With my wife looking on, I opened the envelope to discover three
pictures. Diane was still lying on the table attired in her high heels,
garter belt and hose. Steve and Dave were still sucking her tits, but the
third man’s hand was now lathering her pussy. The second photo showed the
third man’s hands shaving her pussy with a straight razor; one hand
holding the lips of her vagina taut while the other wielded the razor.
The final photograph showed the third man with his head buried between her
thighs, lapping at her pussy while Steve and Dave continued to feast on
her nipples. It was now possible to tell that this third man was also
black and that he had a thick beard. My wife smiled broadly as I ogled
the pictures and told me that the new man was “Big Bad John.” Although I
was very excited, Diane refused to engage in any sex and instead insisted
that we both go to sleep in order to conserve our strength for the next
The next night, we both dressed up for our anniversary dinner. Diane’s
friend, Gail, arrived to take care of the kids. Diane had been telling
her of the advantages of female domination and trying to convince her to
put her own husband under strict female control. Every time she would
look at me she would laugh and when no one was within earshot she taunted
me by asking, “How long as it been since your little pecker got some
We finally got away from Gail and left for our evening together. I
thought we were going to a restaurant downtown, so I was surprised when my
wife pulled the car into a nearby resort. We ate a very nice meal in
their lounge, but as we were leaving my wife led me to the elevators. We
went to an upper floor and walked down the hall. Producing a room key, we
entered a guest room. The room contained the usual table, chairs and
desk/dresser combination. It also had two king-sized beds. On one of the
beds was a small over-night case.
Diane ushered me into the room and shut the door behind us. She ordered
me to remove my jacket and then to take off my pants, undershorts, shoes
and socks. She made it clear that I was to leave my shirt on. As I
complied with her directions, Diane stripped down to a very sexy dark blue
teddy. Diane opened the over-night case and pulled out her handcuffs.
Securing my hands behind my back, she ordered me to kneel in the middle of
one of the beds. Taking the pillows from the bed, she piled them under my
stomach, raising my naked ass high in the air.
Reaching into the small suitcase again she pulled out her fake cock.
Unsnapping the crotch of her teddy, she stepped into the harness and
adjusted the base of the dildo against her golden pussy and pulled the
straps tight. With the dildo jutting from her crotch, she reached into
the bag again and brought out a tape player with headphones. She put the
headphones on my head and adjusted the small speakers over my ears. Once
again she reached into the bag and pulled out the ball gag and the leather
hood. She quickly shoved the ball gag in my mouth and then pulled the
hood over my head.
Suddenly, my ears were filled with the sounds of a loud, heavy-metal
band! With the hood over my head, I couldn’t see anything and between the
hood and the music blaring in my ears, I could not hear anything. I had
no way of knowing where my wife was or what she was doing.
After a few minutes, I felt the bed shift and then her cock was pushing
into my ass. She pounded into my behind with a fury and my own cock
swelled. Fearing her certain reprisal for coming without permission, I
fought to control my impending orgasm. Luckily, she ceased her assault on
my poor ass. With her fake cock still imbedded in my ass, she held
perfectly still. When I had regained my composure, she began sliding in
and out of my behind with slow, rhythmic strokes. Soon, I was once again
on the verge of orgasm. And once more she stopped moving just in time.
This starting and stopping continued for over an hour. At the end, I was
a quivering mass. My shirt was soaked with sweat. I had been successful
in delaying my orgasm, but I would have killed to be able to come at that
Finally, the cock was removed from my behind and I felt her get off the
bed. A few minutes later, the bed shifted again and someone got on the
bed in front of me. I had assumed that my wife was on the bed in front of
me, but the ball-gag was removed and my mouth was pulled to a woman’s
pussy. I recognized the taste of sperm in the woman’s slit, but this
pussy was clean shaven, so I knew it must belong to some other woman.
The woman I was licking began to come. She pulled my face deep between
her legs and clamped her thighs around my head, her hips bucking and
pushing my tongue deeper and deeper into her cunt. When her orgasm
subsided, she released her hold on my head. The music was finally shut
off and the ringing in my ears slowly faded. The woman then removed the
Sitting before me was my wife! Her legs were spread wide, her pubic hair
gone and the lips of her vagina swollen and gaping open. Even with all of
the licking and sucking that I had done, sperm was still dripping from her
cunt. A quick glance around the room showed that the other bed had been
used by several people although we were clearly alone now. My gaze
finally came to rest on my wife who was smiling lewdly. As it slowly
dawned on me that one of my wife’s lovers had been fucking my ass while my
wife had her pussy shaved and then fucked in the other bed, my cock
erupted in a tremendous orgasm. The strength of the orgasm was
unbelievable, almost causing me to black out. Laughing at my
transgression, Diane turned over and presented me with a view of her ass
which was also coated with come. Without waiting for her command, I
drilled my tongue into her ass sucking the come out of her rear passage.
When Diane was finally sated, she went into the bathroom and took a
shower, leaving me still shackled and kneeling on the bed. When she was
done, she came back in the room, dressed, and reapplied her make-up. When
she was all ready, she unlocked the handcuffs and told me to get dressed
and packed up and she would see me in the car in five minutes. I am just
glad that no one I knew saw me rushing through the hotel lobby — I’m sure
I must have made a frightening sight in my condition.
When we got home, my wife asked Gail to help her with my punishment for
coming without permission. With Gail looking on, I was ordered to strip
and then bring them my razor and shaving cream. The headphones and hood
were then put on me and my hands again locked behind my back. I was
pushed onto the bed and the music began blaring in my ears (apparently so
Diane could tell Gail all about her evening without my hearing the
details). Then Gail’s hairy pussy was straddling my face and I ate her
cunt as she and Diane shaved my pubic hair.
I didn’t get any sexual release for the next month and Diane spent most
of her free time tutoring Gail in the finer points of female domination.
Then one Friday morning my wife left for work telling me not to wait up
for her. That evening I found my envelope under my pillow. Unlike the
earlier envelopes, this one had “Big Bad John” written across it. Inside
were six pictures. The first showed Diane licking and stroking a HUGE
cock. It looked like a huge, black pole. Diane later bragged that it was
almost eleven inches long and as big around as her wrist! The second
picture showed her trying to stuff the cock in her mouth. It was so large
though that she was only able to get her lips around the head of the cock.
The third picture showed Diane on her back with Steve and Dave holding
her legs spread far apart and pulled up over her head. Diane’s hands were
pulling her vagina open and John’s cock head was rubbing against her
gaping hole. The next picture showed John’s cockhead pushing into her
cunt. The fifth picture showed about half of John’s cock in her pussy.
The final picture showed John lying on his back with Diane sitting astride
him — his entire cock buried to the hilt in her cunt — with Diane
clearly experiencing a powerful orgasm.
Diane showed up about noon the next day. She went right to bed and slept
until about four in the afternoon. When I went into see her, she threw
back the sheet to show that sperm was still leaking from her well-fucked
pussy. That night, Diane let me fuck her. Usually her pussy fits snugly
around my cock, but that night her pussy was still so stretched that my
cock thrashed loosely in her cunt. Even without the snug fit of her
pussy, the thought of those pictures made me erupt within a few minutes.
Last month, my wife once again called on a Friday afternoon to tell me to
take care of the kids. This was the beginning of a three-day weekend.
That night I found my promised envelope. Inside were four photographs.
The first showed Diane sitting astride John with his cock completely
buried in her pussy. Steve was fucking her in the ass and she was deep
throating Dave. The second picture showed her face drenched with Dave’s
come. The third picture showed Steve’s prick spurting come all over her
ass. The final picture showed her pussy just inches above John’s erect
cock. His cock was slick with her juices. Her pussy was coated with
sperm and a huge glob of come was falling from her shaved pussy. Just
then the phone rang. I answered it, but it was a few seconds before Diane
greeted me. Over the phone I could hear loud slurping sounds as well as
guttural moans. Then Diane asked if I liked my present and she told me
that she would be gone for the entire weekend and that she would see me
Tuesday evening. As she spoke to me, she was gasping and panting and I
knew that she was being fucked while she was talking to me on the phone.
At the end I heard another woman’s voice scream out, “Harder! Fuck me
harder!” Diane chuckled and between moans told me to call Gail’s husband
and tell him the same message. As the line went dead, I began stroking my
cock. I knew Diane would punish me anyway, so I looked through my album
and masturbated throughout the entire weekend.
The photos from this last envelope filled the last of the empty pages in
the album. My birthday is next week and I can’t wait to see what this
years present will be!
Originally posted 2007-09-03 09:55:46.
CFNM, Feminization, Strap-On Sex
I arrived at Elizabeth’s in the evening. We had ended our relationship a few months previously and had remained friends, or so I thought. I had expected Elizabeth and I would be eating alone so I was surprised to hear voices in the kitchen.
‘Who’s here,’ I asked as I removed my shoes and hung up my jacket.
‘Connie and Maureen,’ Elizabeth said. I must have colored slightly. Connie and Maureen were also former lovers of mine.
‘Don’t worry,’ Elizabeth said, grinning. ‘No one’s going to hurt you.’ We moved into the kitchen and sat around making idle chatter. Maureen had a deck of cards in her hand that she kept shuffling. I was nervous being in the company of these three, but growing more comfortable until Elizabeth turned to
Maureen and asked about my pussy eating skills. ‘He was very good,’ Maureen said, leering at me. ‘He ate my pussy as long as I wanted, but he always needed to cum. He always wanted a hand job or would I suck his dick or fucking, he would beg for fucking.’
I reddened. I did not know what to say. Connie leaned over and grabbed my crotch. She squeezed my penis and balls hard enough to be both pleasurable and painful.
‘It’s alright,’ Connie said. ‘We all know your secrets. We’ve all seen you naked with your little dickie sticking out. You don’t have to be embarrassed.’
‘I’m not embarrassed,’ I said, trying to seem nonchalant. Her squeezing was giving me an erection. The conversation was humiliating.
‘Men do seem to need that attention their penises,’ Elizabeth said. She had stepped behind me and was running her fingers through my hair. ‘I once caught him masturbating in the shower. I made him get out and finish in front of me. You enjoyed that, didn’t you”
I must have turned a deep red. They all roared with laughter. I was angry, humiliated and a little turned on at the same time.
‘Oh, come on,’ Elizabeth said, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘We’re just goofing on you. Don’t take it so seriously.’
Much to my relief, we returned to our previous, safer conversation. Then Maureen snapped her deck of cards and called for a game.
‘How about a little strip poker,’ she said. I paused.
‘I don’t think I want to play strip poker,’ I said. Maureen snapped her cards again.
‘Are you chicken,’ Elizabeth asked.
‘You can get us back for embarrassing you before,’ Connie said. ‘You can get us naked and make us beg for our clothes back. Don’t you want to teach us a lesson”
That direct appeal to my ego worked. I agreed to the game. Maureen dealt the first hand. I anted up with a sock though I graciously left it on the floor. I was raised a sock and my belt. My two-of-a-kind lost to Maureen’s flush.
On the next hand I anted up my shirt. I folded when Connie and Maureen were pushing the stakes up high. The three of them seemed to be wearing many layers of clothing. I anted up my pants. As Connie dealt the hand, Maureen started telling the story of the best sex she and I had ever had.
She had ordered me to get naked. I had to start at her feet and lick and kiss my way up to her pussy. Then I ate her pussy as she sat on the sofa. With one foot she kept artfully manipulating my penis and balls, sometimes softly, sometimes painfully, but keeping me hard. When she had cum twice, she ordered me onto an armless chair she owned and mounted me. Maureen rode me until I came and then she kept on riding until I begged her to stop.
That was the best sex we had ever had. I loved her on top of me. I could never recall that sex without getting an erection and I could feel my hardon growing in my underwear as Maureen told the story. I folded quickly to avoid having to bet my underwear, my last remaining piece of clothing, and expose my erection. Elizabeth won the hand and started to deal. The three of them anted and looked at me expectantly.
‘Well, where’s your ante,’ Elizabeth said. I stood. I was sweating and my heart was pounding. I could feel the blood rising up in my cheeks. I pulled my underwear down to my ankles and stepped out. I dropped the underwear in the middle of the table. My erection stood straight out from my body. They roared with laughter. Connie had snatched my chair away so I could not sit and, at least, pretend to hide behind the table. I was humiliated.
‘Oh, he’s embarrassed,’ Connie said. ‘He’s all excited and we can see his little penis.’
Maureen and Elizabeth laughed again. Maureen reached over and flicked the head of my penis with her finger. The unexpected pain made me jump. She did it again. As I was fending off a third attempt, Connie did the same to my balls. The attack was coming from two sides. I covered my balls with one hand and the head of my penis with the other.
‘He’s getting mad,’ Elizabeth said. ‘He’s naked and you girls are hurting his little penis.’
Connie bent down and plucked one of my socks from the floor. Promising she would not hurt me, she opened it and slid it over my erection. More than half the sock hung down from the tip of my penis. They laughed again.
‘There,’ Connie whispered in my ear. ‘Now we can’t see your little dickie.’ Connie tickled the underside of my balls and then moved her hand up the shaft of my penis. Turning to the other two, she said ‘He’s really hard.’
Elizabeth came around the table and felt my penis. Maureen took her turn. She pumped my penis. Her stroking and the sock rubbing the head of my penis were too much and I exploded. Her hand kept the cum pumping out of my penis. Then the head became too sensitive. The sock rubbing against the head was almost painful.
‘Maureen,’ I begged. ‘Please stop. Please.’
Maureen pulled the sock off. She took my balls in her hand and gave them a forceful squeeze. Pulling up, she lifted me up onto my toes.
‘Who gave you permission to cum,’ she said. ‘You’re gonna get it now.’
Keeping a firm grip on my balls, Maureen pulled me over to Elizabeth. Maureen gave a quick blow to the stomach. I bent over at the waist and felt her hand on the back of my neck, forcing me onto Elizabeth’s lap with my ass in the air.
Elizabeth trapped my still-erect penis between her thighs. I struggled to hold still as it remained sensitive. Connie caught my neck in a lock between her knees. I was trying to catch my breath.
‘Spread your legs,’ Elizabeth ordered. When I did not comply fast enough, Elizabeth started to spank me, hard. I took a breath and began to struggle. Someone, presumably Maureen, sat on my back and a hand took a firm and painful grip on my balls.
‘Stay still,’ Maureen said. Just to emphasize her point, she gave my balls one hard squeeze. I stopped squirming. Someone, Connie I thought, reached down and clapped a bracelet on my left wrist. Both arms were pulled behind my back and I realized it was not a bracelet, but handcuffs. That hand, still on my balls, kept me still. I was cuffed and immobilized. Maureen and Connie climbed off me. I remained on Elizabeth’s lap and she took up her spanking again.
‘Make his ass nice and pink,’ Connie said. I heard Maureen leave the room. My ass was stinging after a few minutes. Maureen returned. I heard a bag being dropped on the table. Elizabeth stopped.
‘Look at that color,’ Maureen said. A hand with sharp fingernails played across my behind. My cheeks were pulled apart.
‘Let’s clean up this little ass pussy,’ Connie said. A buzzer started up and I felt the cold metal pressed against my rear. I was getting shaved — all around my rectum, beneath my balls and the insides of my thighs. What felt like a razor cleaned off any stubble.
I heard someone spit and I felt a warm liquid on my rectum. finger penetrated me, then two. Some cold liquid hit my rear and I felt a much larger object pressing against me. My rectum spread to admit it then collapsed as the object’s diameter grew smaller.
‘What is that,’ I asked.
‘A little penis-shaped butt plug,’ Elizabeth responded. ‘Do you like having a penis up your ass”
I kept silent. I was lifted to my feet. Elizabeth pressed up against. She took my nipples between her fingers and squeezed.
‘Well, do you,’ she said quietly. I mumbled my assent. Taking the buzzer from Maureen, Elizabeth went to work on my crotch. My pubic hair was taken down to stubble. They stood back to admire their work.
I looked ridiculous as I stood naked in front of the three women. Between the orgasm, the spanking and the ball squeezing, my penis had shriveled. ‘Hard to believe something so small could get smaller,’ Maureen said. She
stepped to me and lightly played with my genitals. I looked down at my penis.
She was right. It had never looked so small.
‘Come on,’ Maureen ordered. She took a firm grip on me flacid penis and pulled me to the bathroom. Elizabeth and Connie trailed behind and gave my ass a swat anytime they thought I was moving too slowly. Once in the bathroom, Maureen applied shaving cream to the remaining stubble on my crotch. She used a razor to complete the shaving.
‘Get in the tub,’ Maureen said. ‘It’s time for a rinse.’
I stood in the tub and began to reach for the tap.
‘Lie down,’ Maureen barked. ‘Face up.’
Elizabeth, Connie and I all looked confused by this order. I complied. Maureen whispered something in Connie’s ear. With a giggle Connie took down her panties and squatted above me. Her pee began to flow over my stomach and she directed the stream to hit my penis and balls. Elizabeth did the same. Maureen started at my genitals, went up my chest and finished on my face.
‘Get up,’ Maureen ordered. The butt plug was removed. She turned the cold water on full blast. I had to stand under the stream for several minutes before Maureen turned it off and I toweled off.
Connie put me in a collar and leash and we went to the living room. A penis gag was stuffed into my mouth. The cuffs were removed and I was forced down onto all fours. Connie and Elizabeth took seats behind me on the couch. My ass and balls were displayed to them. Maureen sat on my back. The three of them began idle conversation while Maureen began playing with my ass.
First, it was a finger, then two, and then a dildo, perhaps. Their conversation grew quiet as Maureen’s concentration on my ass grew more intense.
Maureen climbed off and I heard her fussing behind me. She knelt behind me. I could feel her hands on my hips. One of the two on the couch rose to assist Maureen. I was penetrated by a huge dildo. Maureen began slowly fucking me.
‘That’s it, my little bitch,’ she said to me. ‘Take it all. You love me fucking you. Say you love it.’
Through the penis gag I mumbled my assent. When I was not loud enough, Maureen gave me a swat on the ass. She pulled out and ordered me onto my back with my knees up. The fucking started again in this new position. She was rough and occasionally slammed into my balls. I was alternately in pain, turned on and I had a semi-flacid, half-hearted erection. Elizabeth and Connie were both standing now to observe.
‘She wants to get a hardon, but she can’t,’ Connie said. Maureen stopped and pulled out. I could see a thought forming in Elizabeth’s mind.
‘Get onto all fours, bitch’ Elizabeth snapped at me. There was more noise behind me and someone, presumably Elizabeth, knelt behind me. I felt fingers penetrating my asshole and their number was increasing. Elizabeth was about to fist me, I realized. My heart was pounding and I was struggling for breath through the gag. I tried to relax my ass and surrender to the inevitable. I found myself pushing back to accept her fist, almost wanting it in me. With a final thrust, she was in me. I relished being so entirely possessed by her, being owned by her. She approved.
‘That’s a good girl,’ Elizabeth said. To further show her approval, she used her other hand to play with my balls and penis which was now completely flacid.
The fisting seemed to go on and on. Then Elizabeth removed her hand and I fell to the floor, exhausted. I rolled onto my back. The three of them were standing above me, smiling. Connie knelt beside my head and stroked my hair.
‘Now it’s time for our fun,’ she said. I had thought they had been having their fun, but apparently not. Connie removed the gag and climbed onto my face. I ate her pussy to orgasm. I did the same for Elizabeth and Maureen. By the time I was done I was erect again and dying to come. The three of them, however, were finished with me. Connie dumped my clothes in a pile on the floor next to me.
‘But I haven’t cum,’ I protested. Elizabeth took me by the arm and started to lead me to the door. Standing at her front door, Elizabeth delicately played her fingers along my balls and up the shaft of my penis. She lightly stroked my penis as she spoke to me. I thought she might masturbate me to orgasm.
‘You’re so hard,’ she said. ‘You may masturbate in the bushes outside. We’ll dump your clothes out the front window.’
She pushed me outside, naked, with a raging erection. The cold air stung my skin. I jumped behind the bushes that lined the front of her house. At the far end I heard a window open and saw my clothes dumped out. I pressed my back against the house and made my way towards my clothes in the tight space between the house and the bushes. The bushes were scratching the skin on my stomach, my thighs, even on my penis and balls. I turned sideways which protected my front, but my side was plenty scratched when I reached my clothes. My pants and underwear weren’t there. I heard Elizabeth above me.
‘I told you to masturbate,’ she said. ‘Jerk off or you can walk home in your shirt and socks. The whole neighborhood will see your little dick.’
Fighting off the pain and cold I took my drooping penis in my hand. I came in two or three minutes and was rewarded with the rest of my clothes except for my underwear. In its place, I had a pair of frilly, female panties. I did not need to be ordered to put these on. I knew it was my place to wear them.