forced male masturbation

(another in the Acacia series, see chapters one and two to learn what brought slave Five to this point..) As always, thank you for comments and for voting your score at the end.


In the week afterward, he thought of little else. He was his usual self at the office, in business meetings, in the interactions of daily life- shirts to cleaners, shop for food, a dinner at a local restaurant, and calls to friends. The car service had dropped him off at the club, where he found his car in the back of the lot. Driving home, the time with Acacia began to seem so out of his typical life it had an unreal quality and an oddly flat tone too. As a film or a story, happening to someone else, it would have seemed like an exotic adventure and a sexual fantasy too. In reality, he was surprised how easily he had slipped into the situation, doing things he never had imagined he would, without a real emotional peak.

As the days and nights went past, though, he remembered it in parts, and the feelings he had had. He recalled Acacia’s eyes, when he first met her, as she watched him in the conditions she created, as she appraised him. He thought about the unusual ease of being naked and humiliated, and of receiving physical pain and of the honest longing he found himself trying to express to her without words. He thought about the woman Diana, an accessory to the process and someone not at all charmed by his efforts.

He held the small card with her number and looked at it from day to day, trying to understand what really drew him to the situation. At dinner with a woman friend from work, he felt it in his pocket as he chatted through the meal, smiling and wanting something more. The first time he called, the number rang without an answer. He felt somehow foolish, perhaps there was no number at all, and she had put him off as a further demonstration of control. He waited until later in the evening, and realized he had called but she had told him only to text message to the number. He had to stop and think through the process, he was a generation beyond the often-texting younger crowd. He slowly typed out the message had hit Send.

“May I see you pls? 5″

He was immediately doubtful; was this too little to say, did she want more pleading, did this seem too casual, or too needy? Nothing happened. He slipped the cell phone back into his pocket and returned to the paper and some work at home, but his mind wandered. When he heard the chimes, he had to think before he realized it was the text message tone, which he was not used to. He fished the phone out and found the key to light the screen.

“Graycliff station. Fri 8pm pickup. A.”

He knew the place, a commuter rail station not far from the club where they had met, a place that would be empty long after rush hour the next day. The finality of her text seemed clear, with no invitation to reply or to chat, no greeting or humor. He knew he would debate with himself, consider not going, and never knowing, and he realized he would be there.


It was raining Friday evening, a slow misty drizzle slanting through the lights on the other side of the station parking lot. He had left his car alongside the two or three others, probably commuters staying late in town. He was standing under the shed along the tracks, looking down the line to the three red signal lights and the gleam on the rails. Once in a while a car splashed along the road that swept by the parking lot and went under the bridge nearby, with its lights tracing the dark trees along the road. He had brought nothing with him, with no instructions to follow. Under his raincoat, he had worn casual but dressy slacks and a shirt, trying to hit the right note of style yet submission, without knowing where that line might be. He was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake about the date or the time or her intent when his phone chimed.

“Be ready 5. One min.”

He turned to look down the hill to the road as a pair of headlights picked him out and curved toward him. The car was a surprise, an older Lincoln stretch but one well past its prime, another car service vehicle it seemed. He stepped out into the rain and opened the rear door to slide in, and as he turned on the creased black leather seat he was surprised to see a woman facing him in the car. He had not seen her before, but he began to think she might have been at the terrace lunch. She was in a dark raincoat, with boots, and seemed to also have just come in from the rain. As the car moved away, he started to settle into the seat when she spoke to him.

“Slaves kneel, don’t sit with me.” She pointed to the flat floor, and he awkwardly took the kneeling pose as the car moved him around. He could not see the driver, as he braced himself with knees apart and his head up. She reached out with her booted foot to push his legs further apart and held her boot between his legs, tapping smartly under his balls. She held the toe of the boot to his lips, expectantly, and after a few seconds he kissed it, tasting the wet leather of it. She held it there, and he tentatively licked it, which seemed to be the right thing. He licked more, polishing it, as she watched, and the car bounced over the road. As he licked, he looked up along the tall boot.

“Are you looking up my dress, Slave? Is that what you want? You seem to have only one thing in that mind.”

His face reddened, and he turned his eyes down. “Ah, no, umm,,Ma’am,,,I never..”

She used her foot to push him off balance, and he fell sideways on the floor of the moving car. As he scrambled back onto his knees, she slid forward on the seat and pulled him toward her, opening her coat and pushing his head between her thighs. Lifting her skirt with one hand, she used the other on the back of his head to push him forward roughly. Her musky aroma was strong, as he struggled to kiss her legs, and her panties. She pushed harder, and he worked his tongue, finding the smooth skin of her thigh, pressing the panties aside and licking into her. He found it hard to catch his breath as she lifted her hips to him, making him choke as he licked faster. She held him to her, urging him on, then sat back and pushed him away again with her boot. He knelt, his face wet with her juices, as the car took another corner. She reached past him to tap on the glass divider, and after the car pulled off the road he felt the cold air as the driver opened the rear door.

A younger woman, clearly the driver, stood at the open door. The rain had stopped now, but a cold mist blew into the car. The woman in the car laughed.

“This slave begged to serve; he seems to think he is something special. Try his tongue, see what you think.” His face went redder, but he knew now not to question her. The driver stepped into the open door, with one foot on the floor of the car, and waited for him to crawl closer. She lifted her skirt as the older woman watched, exposing herself shaved with no panties. He knelt and leaned forward, his head against her, and his tongue out. He probed and stroked, to find her slit, and began to lick deeply as fast as he was able. His tongue was tiring as he felt her convulse, and press her body forward, holding him against her as his tongue fluttered in her and he tasted her juices. With an annoyed sigh she pushed him back, stepped away and slammed the door. He found his place, kneeling, as the car bumped back onto the road.

A few minutes later, the car turned into the familiar drive at Acacia’s and climbed the rise to the country house. As the car pulled up, Acacia came out onto the broad front porch. The driver came around to open the rear door, and the older woman slid out and straightened her coat, brushing it smooth. “Nice to see you again, you know I always love your house.”

Acacia smiled and touched her arm. “Thank you for stopping by the station for me to pick up that package.” She turned, and saw him, still kneeling in the car, and laughed. “Five, get out of the car and go to the back door, you know your place here. Did you let them use you? My god, you are a disgusting slut, really. Go now.”

“From the moment I called him Slave and made him kneel, he was a natural, and he never said no. His, ahh, skills do need improvement though; you will need to teach him I think. Still, he has some promise.”

As he rounded the house, he heard the exchange of goodbyes and the slam of the car door before it headed back down the drive. At the lamp post by the kitchen door, he found his harness on the hook, with a black leather thong. He stood in the dark under the pool of light from the lamp, stripping off his clothing and awkwardly buckling himself into the harness, fitting it over his body and between his legs, then slipping the thong on over it. He went to the rough cocoa mat at the door and rang the bell.

Diana, the younger submissive woman from last time, opened the door and stepped back for him to walk in. She was casually dressed, in a short skirt and a loose shirt, with sandals, and smirked to see him almost naked in this slave costume. She took down the collar and chain leash for the coat hook in the back hall, fastened them on him, and led him down the stairs to a cellar, rather than to the front of the house. It was a country cellar, not a dungeon setting, with whitewashed stone walls and wood beams above, and dried flowers and herbs hanging upside down next to the large window and door to the back yard.

She pointed to him to stand on two low wooden boxes, then looped the chain leash over a hook on the beam above him. He began to feel ridiculous, with the silence, and the costume, and his legs spread as he straddled the two boxes, his hands at his sides. She walked around behind him, out of his sight, and he felt the weight of wrist cuffs being buckled on, and then attached behind his back. He heard the scrape of a wooden chair on the stone floor as she sat somewhere behind him.


Moments passed, with the ticking of warm steam pipes among the beams, as he stood at ease but restrained by the leash, his head up. The tap of high heels was Acacia, coming down the wooden stairs, to stand looking at him. She was also normally and casually dressed, some sort of wool tweed skirt and a sweater, with rich tan leather boots, all from some upper end store with sophisticated quiet fashion- none of the leather and fetish wear from a movie scene. Her normality and appearance made him feel more embarrassed, in his token harness and a thong so small he was already rising out of it. She looked at him, in a neutral way, and then stepped forward.

“So, Five, you texted, you wanted to see me again. And here you are, a slut, on display for us. It seems like you have made a choice about where you belong. Is that correct?”

“Umm,yes. Yes Acacia, I mean. I do want to; I need to serve you. I could not get that first time with you out of my mind.” He stopped, not sure if he was saying too much, or sounding too needy, or not saying enough. He was afraid most of all that she would decide now to turn him away, after lighting these ideas in his mind.

She sighed lightly, and then took a breath. “I find it interesting and sometimes amusing to have a male slave on call, and I think you may be trainable. However, let’s make one thing clear from the start; this is not a love affair, and I will never have sex with you, though I will get deeply into your mind and you will think of me and want to please me every day. You have to accept that reality from the beginning. I will own that aspect of you, which also means I might discard you if you don’t work out or I might give you away if I choose to, once you are trained. Your only right in the matter is the one-time right to say ‘stop’ and our relationship will end, but it will not ever go back again. If you accept this, say so.”

He paused, and thought for a few seconds. Not knowing what might be next; he also knew he did not want to turn away from the new ideas. “Yes, Acacia. I accept this role.” There did not seem to be anything additional to add.

“Well, then, we need to start with the basics. Shift your weight to your right leg.” As he did, she tapped the boxes further apart, so that he was standing with his legs in a wider angle, balancing with hands bound. Acacia stepped back as Diana came around to take photos with the flash of a digital camera, full view front, back and side, as he sucked in his stomach and tensed himself. Acacia used a tape measure to take his waist and chest measurements, calling them to Diana to record. Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, she circled around him carefully examining all of him, tilting his head in the collar, and opening his mouth to probe inside.

Her gloved fingers covered all of his skin, under his arms, down to his cuffed wrists, probing the softness of his waist under the harness. She peeled the thong down to his thighs, to probe and cup his hardening cock and balls, and to finger the details of his ass. She left the thong there as she examined his legs and feet. As she stood up, she slapped his cock and smiled as he winced.

“I am not into medical play, although I know a number of women who are, so if you are having some sort of nurse fantasy you can stop now. The point here is that all of this body is mine to explore, without asking you or offering a choice. I may do this at anytime and you will say nothing. Whether this body is dressed or adorned is my choice when you are with me, and sometimes when you are not. Perhaps some nice nipple rings and piercings, hmm?” She laughed to see the fear cross his face, at the same time that his cock hardened visibly.

She turned away, then came back with a fat permanent marker and leaned to carefully letter a “5″ on the left side of his ass, and a phone number. Diana handed her a flat chain, which he saw was simple hardware store galvanized sash chain, not jewelry. It was cold as Acacia fitted it around his waist, making it snug enough not to slide down over his hips, cupping it under his belly. She clipped it together with a tiny dime store lock, leaving 18 inches of it dangling between his legs. She fastened a round ring to the loose end.

“Now, if you wander away, someone can call my phone to have you returned. The chain is going to be a constant reminder, since you will wear it all the time, under your clothing. You probably will not want anyone else to see you naked, since you will have to explain the chain, and you will find the loose end least annoying if you cup it in your underwear, under your balls.” She tugged on the ring of the chain. “This is handy if I want to secure you as a reminder you are not independent now.

I think all this body hair is just unsightly, too, but keeping you shaved or waxed smooth is too much trouble, and since your skin will never be on mine I don’t care about stubble. Diana, just shear him now, quickly.”

Acacia stepped away as Diana used electric clippers to cut his body hair close, from his chest to his pubic hair, from his arms to his legs, under his arms, around his ass. It felt scratchy immediately, and he looked down to see himself naked in a new way.

“Five, you will need to keep yourself trimmed this way from now on of course. You will clean up here later, now we need to give you the first lesson tonight. Bring him upstairs please, Diana.”


When Diana led him on the leash into the master suite, Acacia had already changed into a nightgown under a long robe, with her hair down. He was directed to a low leather ottoman, large and square with a silk cord tied around it. Diana peeled off his thong and positioned him on hands and knees, with the end of his new waist chain hanging down. She clipped the ring to the silk cord, keeping him loosely in place, then went off behind him.

“Five, pay attention now. We need to change your sexual conditioning. What I mean is that since you were a boy, like all boys your sexual focus has been that cock, and your orgasm. You get excited, you come, and then your interest goes somewhere else. You need to learn to have that sexual excitement, but to use it for my benefit as I choose, and to take your reward from pleasing me. We need to train your mind not to associate orgasm and coming with pleasure, but to want to resist it and channel your energy in other ways, such as a desire to serve and to be used.”

Acacia came close to where he knelt on the cushion, and lightly stroked his hair. Diana came behind her to embrace her in her long soft robe, and then stepped into his view. She had removed her skirt and shirt, to wear a red thong only, with her nipples rouged to match. She laughed, as she cupped her own bare breasts and toyed with the nipples, then slid one hand into the thong to stroke herself, to see his cock harden automatically.

Acacia laughed too. “See, you are like a dog in heat, all the time. So, here is all you have to do. Stay there, on your hands and knees. Diana will try to make you come, and I think it may not be difficult. She will tease you and touch you, but of course you can never have her. If you do come, though, two things will happen. I am going to paddle that high ass, hard, and you will wind up drinking and swallowing your own cum. Then we will do it again until you learn to resist. I am sure you have had a woman take you in her mouth, and from your end it was great, and you wanted to see her swallow it. Now you will get your own taste, as you will every time you come from now on.”

Acacia stepped away out of his sight, and Diana came to him, as he knelt on hands and knees, reaching under him to stroke his nipples, her finger tips grazing his newly shaved chest. He felt himself getting hard as she slid her hand down to touch the cock head, and then to cup under his balls. She leaned closer, her small breast teasingly just out of reach of his lips, as she stroked his cock. Her nipple grazed his cheek, and he stiffened, and as she stroked his cock he felt the rising urge he could not stop. His hips rocked, as his cum began to spurt and he whimpered with release. As she stepped back, she slipped a wine glass under him, catching his ejaculation in it.

SMACK!!! A hard paddle hit his ass, stinging hard and throwing him forward. Acacia was behind him, paddling again and again with firm strokes as his cock softened and he was gasping. She stopped and stepped around him, leaving his ass hot and aching badly, moaning.

“Kneel up, Five. Get up off your hands now.” She held his shoulder as he levered himself up onto his knees, his ass stinging more now. He wanted to rub it but could not.

Diana brought the glass to his lips, pouring the warm cum into his mouth, watching the thick fluid coat his tongue. He tasted musk, and salt, and himself for the first time. The sticky liquid was hard to swallow, and he choked a little. Diana poured the last bit over his face, and he felt it running down his chin.

“Five, you didn’t last long at all, that was ridiculous. Think about doing better.” She left him on his knees, slipping a pillowcase over his head. Through it, he heard their laughter and their lovemaking on the bed a few feet away, as they waited for his body to respond.

They came back to him, before his aching cock could begin to harden again, and once more he took his position on hands and knees. With his head covered, he felt a warm cream applied to his nipples, which soon became hotter and scented. He felt fingers working his nipples, circling and stroking them, then pulling and pinching. He found himself becoming aroused but unable to get hard, excited from the nipple contact only, and beginning to want more.

Acacia spoke, from close by, her voice husky. “I want you to understand this conditioning, which will begin to change the way you react and think about yourself. When you come as you are used to, as that romantic man in your own mind, with a hard cock, you will now have humiliation and pain. At the same time, your nipples will become more sensitive and the key to your arousal, so that just a touch begins to make you hard and soon you will be able to orgasm from that alone, without anyone touching that hard cock.”

June 2018
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