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.