male submissive

“Save some punch for me…Mr. Policeman,” came the throaty sexy growl from behind me.



I turned quickly and bumped into the woman who had bent over me as I ladled out a cup of the orange jet fuel punch my friend Maxine doctored up for her annual Halloween party. After I stepped back to regain my balance, my eyes quickly took in the stunning woman before me. Late 20′s, 5’7″, white blouse tied in a way that accentuated her large breasts and nut brown tanned and taut stomach, complete with a gold ring piercing her navel. There was a black lace bra peeking out underneath the blouse that lifted her cleavage and brought her breasts together until they were just touching. Her tartan plaid miniskirt barely covered any of her long tan thighs, draping a mere few inches below her crotch.



The effect was completed by black mesh stockings that just came above her knees, visible from the tops of her patent leather spiked heel boots that clung to her calves. I realized my eyes were lingering too long on her beautiful body and looked up. Her almond eyes framed by violet eye shadow, geek chic glasses, long black hair with some dyed brown streaks cascading off her head in two silky pigtails. She looked at me with dark red lips slightly parted, tongue touching her front teeth, knowing full well her devastating look. She was a scorchingly hot blend of naughty and nice. My cock stirred to half-mast.



“Jo-Sei,” she introduced herself, extending her slim hand towards me.



“Josey?” I asked.



“Jo-Sei,” she gently corrected me as our hands met. Electric. I realized that this was Maxine’s good friend she had told me about and wondered just how far out of my league this girl was.



“Cameron.”



“So, Cameron, you a cop?” She smiled, letting me have it. I was, after all, dressed as a California Highway Patrolman, complete with utility belt and boots.



“CHP, ma’am.”



“I love men in uniform. And keep calling me ma’am.”



“I get that a lot,” came my attempt at witty repartee. I rarely get hit on and never by a woman who looked anything remotely like this girl.



“Cops are the biggest sluts,” she added, “And I like to make them do things.”



Whoa, I thought, girl’s going to be a little kinky. My arousal went up.



“So, Mr. Highway Patrolman, you going to give me that punch or what”, Jo-Sei demanded.



I handed her the punch and we chatted for a long while, laughing and flirting and talking about who we knew at the party and commenting about other costumes. She was an old friend of Maxine’s from New York, in San Francisco staying with Maxine for a week. Three to four drinks of super strong punch later, the flirting got a little hotter as she gripped then stroked the billyclub in my utility belt looking right into my eyes, one of her shaped eyebrows arching slyly. She smiled and flicked the handcuffs dangling from the back of my waist, now laughing openly at my clear arousal/discomfort.



A slow song came on and she grabbed my hand, pulling me out to the middle of the living room where a few other couples were dancing. Her left hand wrapped gently around my neck, fingers caressing the skin while her right hand circled my waist, pulling me close then dropping until it was just at the top of my butt. I wrapped my arms around her carefully, not knowing where to hold this bombshell and all of her exposed skin. She leaned into me, giving me a whiff of her jasmine perfume while my hands dropped to her ass. She nuzzled her lips into my neck and nipped at my ear, whispering, “I’m going to tear you up.”



Her left hand brushed my thigh and gently cupped my balls, then squeezed them just a little too tightly until I whimpered. A long throaty giggle at my reaction, followed by her right hand now cupping my ass, pulling me closer. Jo-Sei suddenly pushed me away, her eyes trailing to my crotch, where my cock was clearly starting to bulge in my tight khaki uniform pants. Her hand grabbed mine and she led me downstairs to the guestroom.



She pushed me against the door, closing it. The room was pitch black. Her hands held me in place, caressing my chest, touching my cock through my pants quickly, then releasing me. I could hear her move to the side table, where she lit a candle. I was panting slightly, she smiling at me with a predatory look in her eyes. Her hand dropped to her skirt and pulled a joint out of her waistband and asked, “Does Mr. CHP-man want to party? A word of warning- I do bite but I won’t hurt you…too much.”



I took the joint, picked up the candle and lit it. Took a long toke and handed it to her. Felt the full steam effect of very strong weed and exhaled, “I’m ready.”



Her long pigtails waved gently as her head shook ‘no, you aint’ back and forth while she took a hit. I knew she was right. She dropped onto to the sofa bed and I flopped down beside her. She turned on some music on the side table speakers and we sat there, sharing the joint while her hands kept caressing my dick through my pants. She wouldn’t let me reciprocate and it was driving me a bit crazy. When the joint got down to nub, she stubbed it out in a beer can that was on the table.



She looked right at me as her hands moved to my belt, expertly undoing the buckle then quickly pulling my pants down. She dropped my handcuffs onto the couch seat cushion. My cock throbbed out, bulging through my underwear, the head creating a damp spot from precum. Her fingers stroked the head, all the while she was looking right at me, seeing the change in my eyes and my breathing. She unbuttoned my shirt, running her hands over my chest and tweaking my nipples. My back arched a bit until she tightly gripped my cock, pushing me back down.



“Shh, shh, just take it,” Jo-Sei whispered.



I was in another world- aroused and high ready to do anything with this girl.



She slipped my underwear and trousers down until they were tangled with my boots and knelt down in front of me, a faux innocent look in her eyes as she stroked my granite hard dick in one hand. Her look changed from innocence to hunger in the blink of an eye as she bent over and took my full dick into her mouth, sucking hard. My ass came off the sofa and her hand went between my legs, finger gently pressing against my asshole. I moaned. She giggled a bit on my dick and the vibrations heightened my arousal. She came up for air, kneeling in front of me. One hand twirled a pig tail while she pushed the index finger on her other hand into her mouth, sucking her cheeks in exaggeratedly. She pulled the wet finger out and pulled my legs apart, wide.



“I know something about cops. They all dig the assplay, don’t they?” she asked while she pushed her finger against my tight sphincter. I’ve never had a girl do that and I was lost to her.



“Don’t they?” she demanded as the finger started to slip in. I let out a deep moan and she smiled her innocent smile at me. “Uh oh,” she whispered, “Someone likes it.” Her finger plunged deeper and my cock pulsed.



The finger slipped out with a pop and an involuntary “Oh!” of disappointment escaped my lips.



“Don’t worry,” she growled, “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”



She pulled my hips forward and flipped me to face away from her, my knees on the couch cushions elbows on the back of the sofa, hands now braced on the wall behind. Her hands gripped my wrists for a second until I felt cold metal wrap around them and the telltale click click click as the handcuffs cinched tight. Her hands separated my ass cheeks and I felt her lips along my crack, kissing their way in. I gasped as her tongue flicked my hole, never having had so intimate an experience. Her tongue stabbed again, penetrating me slightly as I felt her left hand grasp my dick and pull downwards sharply. She worked her tongue deep into my ass while fiercely working my dick, stroking it hard, pulling my balls and sending me into a frenzy. My senses were in overload when she stopped, pulling her head back, asking, “What do you want?” while her right hand spanked my ass, hard. I jumped but she held me place and spanked me again. The words stuck in my mouth, embarrassed to express so secret a desire. Her palm hit my ass cheek a third time, harder still. I gasped.



“Come on, slut, what do you want?” Jo-Sei’s voice raised up.



“My ass…” I started, trailing off. A fourth smack, harder still.



“I know ‘your ass’- but what do you want?” Another smack. My mind swirled in a combination of weed, lust, submission- everything.



“Play with my ass,” I tried again, her hand not even pausing to smack me again.



“Say please!” Jo-Sei commanded.



“Please,” I started, her hand falling nonstop now on both ass cheeks, my ears ringing with the sound of me being spanked for the first time in my adult life.



“Please what, slut?” came her sharp exhortation.



“Please play with my ass,” I begged, breaking to admit my true desire.



“Is that all, ass slut?” her hand came down again and again. I had moved from surprise to pleasure and pain was welling up, strong as her hand rained down blows on my ass.



“Please play with my ass, ma’am,” I choked, half begging half crying. The spanking immediately ceased, replaced by her softly caressing my hot glowing red cheeks.



“That’s all you had to ask for, sweetie,” her voice now pure innocence, “I know how horny you cops get.” A finger pushed up against my hole, pushing insistently. “And this little girl is going to take your ass, just like you want,” the finger slipping in. She leaned closer, spitting on her finger and plunging it back in, pulling it out spitting again, now two fingers, deep in my ass. My cock is dripping, hard as she swirls her fingers around the head, playing with my arousal. I’m in a different world- hers to do with what she pleased and being taken.



Her cock stroking and finger fucking my ass start to increase pace, coordinating the downstroke on my dick with her fingers pushing me wider. She accelerated her efforts in my ass and occasionally grabbed or spanked my balls and then resumed her stroking. I opened my legs to better her access. “Slut,” she laughed, digging deeper and pressing more insistently on my prostate, rubbing it sharply. I’m now panting and trying to move my hips in time with her efforts, earning a release of my cock and a sharp smack across my ass. I hold myself still and the hand returns to my dick, milking it downward excruciatingly slowly, then quickening the motion, pulling backward on my cock while plunging her digits in and out of my ass in a blur. I’m getting close- cock soaked with precum, ass tightening up. Her hands moved even faster.



“You sluts are all the same,” Jo-Sei giggled then her voice turned stern, “You may not cum without permission,” knowing full well her quickening motions were pushing me past the limit. I felt my expertly handled cock full to bursting, pressure deepening in my ass.



“I can’t…hold on,” I gasped, rising to the peak. Just as I was about to crest, her hand on my dick turned to a vise, squeezing down hard, squelching any possibility of cumming. Her fingers popped out of my ass as she pulled me around using my cock as a lever. She stood up over me kneeling at her feet.



Jo-Sei wagged a finger at me, scolding me, “You ass slut- you were going to cum.” She grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes, “You were going to shoot your filthy cum with my fingers deep in ass pussy, weren’t you?” Face to face with my tormentress, I blushed deeply. “What are we to do with disobedient whores?” she asked. She pointed at the base of her boots and commanded, “Lick.” Without pause I bent down, ready to do anything to please this demanding princess. “Lick my boots, whore.” My tongue touched the leather and I almost lost it- this was beyond my dreams. I started licking and kissing one boot, then the other and began to work my way up the boots to her thighs. Her breathing changed as my tongue hit her inner thigh. “Good slut,” she whispered. She pushed my head back a bit, breaking contact between my lips and her soft flesh. She turned and flipped up her miniskirt, showing me her taut tanned ass beneath silky white translucent panties. She pulled them halfway down her cheeks. “Slut,” she cooed, “Lick my ass.” I made my tongue a point and just started stabbing it into her ass crack, licking furiously. She wasn’t making it easier for me by spreading her legs or lowering her panties all the way but I licked hard feeling her sphincter rough against my tongue. “Good little ass licker,” she breathed. I enthusiastically continued to lick, suck and kiss her ass with everything I had while she wiggled her little butt back and forth to make it harder for me, all the while alternating between giggling and moaning. Suddenly she pulled away and turned to face me, her face covered with a sheen of sweat and a demanding look in her eye.



“Do you deserve a surprise?” she asked. Confused, I nodded. “Do you deserve a surprise, slut?” came her demand.



“Yes, ma’am,” I answered vigorously.



“Are you sure?” Jo-Sei insisted, stroking my cheek with the back of her hand and fingers trailing off.



“Yes, please ma’am, I’d love a surprise,” I replied.



She moved back for a second, reaching her hands under her skirt, lifting it to reveal a thick outline bulging in her panties. I knew what it was and couldn’t believe what was happening. I was past sensory overload. She smiled at me and pulled the panties slightly forward and down and out sprang her huge cock, head glistening with precum.



“It’s what you want”, she breathed, “It’s what you’ve always wanted.”



I gasped- it had to be 8 inches and it was thick and almost fully hard. She stroked it a few times, freeing it and her shaved balls from her panties. She squeezed the shaft, pushing a drop of precum out of the tip.



“Surprise!” she giggled, wagging her now throbbing dick in my face. “Lick it,” she demanded, leaning forward. I was on full edge, contradictory senses screaming, but knowing this moment of pure unadulterated sex couldn’t be rushed. I stuck my tongue out and she brushed the tip of her dick against it, moaning. She moved her hips so I licked the shaft up, then down. She then pulled her panties down and stepped out of them. Her miniskirt lifted in the front as she stood in front of me. Her hands grasped my head, bringing it forward to inevitability, “Open up, slut- you know what to do.” I didn’t resist as her phallus touched my lips. Her cock forced them open, pushing past my lips- warm, pulsing, filling my mouth.



“Oh,” Jo-Sei gasped, “It’s been too long since I’ve had a good blowjob.” She turned slightly and I moved with her. Her hand lifted my under the armpits, gesturing me to sit on the couch, never breaking contact with my mouth. She was now standing in front of me, back arched and Her knees collapsed onto the sofa, forcing her cock deeply in as she wrapped her hands around my head. She started thrusting, holding my head in place as she worked my mouth. “Good stuff, cop,” she moaned, “This isn’t your first time sucking dick, is it?”



I couldn’t tell her that it was with a mouthful of cock but I knew she knew she was taking me for the first time and she laughed and pushed deeper. I was now starting to panic, breathing more quickly through my nose but unable to breathe around her huge cock. She reached down and pinched my nose shut and thrust hard, then stopped. My lips were touching the bottom of her belly and her entire cock was in my throat. I almost gagged but Jo-Sei said, “Relax,” and I tried to. “You’re a natural,” she gasped as she hit the back of my throat again. Her strokes came faster and she was still holding my head, thrusting deeply into my throat. I was running out of air but understood there was only one way out of this and started sucking her dick like my life depended on it. I could feel her hips hammered away as her cock swelled even more then exploded deep in my mouth. I felt one spurt burst in my throat, then a second as she screamed in pleasure. She released my nose and pulled back a bit, leaving her cock deep in my mouth. My breath came raggedly, sharply, oxygen mixed with her pheromones, heart hammering. Her cock was still spurting, filling my mouth her cum. It was tangy and slightly sweet and I swallowed. Her motion slowed as her cock drained into my mouth, softening. With a sigh she pulled her dick out of my lips with a pop. I was surprised to feel a little moment of loss as missed her cock in my mouth and I swallowed the last of her cum.



“Now you know this changes everything,” Jo-Sei panted, “Whenever any of your friends in the office or at the gym makes a stupid ‘cocksucker’ reference or joke, you’re who they are talking about. Because you are a cock sucker. And when they use the word, you’ll think, ‘I hope they don’t know that I’m a cocksucker.’ But you’ll know. I know. I know that you are not just a cocksucker but are excellent at it and love it. Now clean off my dick,” she added, waving it closely to my mouth. I opened my lips and licked her phallus gently, getting all her cum off of it. She pushed it gently back into my mouth and I felt it stiffen. “Oh no, baby, we’re not done yet. Get me hard for the main event.” Her cock swelled and I sucked to bring it up, knowing what was next.



She pulled away, hard huge dick shiny with my spit. She reached down and pulled my boots off, then my pants and then turned and sat in a wooden chair next to the sofabed. Jo-Sei crooked a finger at me, enticing me to come her way. I moved over slowly, uncertain but knowing her plans. She reached down to her purse which was under the side table and pulled out a tube of lube. “I like to lube it up for sluts,” she said, looking at me lasciviously while slathering her hard dick from tip to base with lube stroking it firmly. She moaned and pulled me closer. “I’m going to look into your eyes as you get fucked for the first time,” she told me as she took my dick in her hands and brought it back to hardness quickly. My excitement was clear. I was facing her, straddling her and she pushed up a bit, probing my ass with her dick. Her hands gripped the chain between the handcuffs and started to pull me down. Her head popped into my sphincter and she held it there. I whimpered a bit at the size of her head and she said softly, “Hold here for a minute.”



The position was hard to maintain- she was pulling down on the chain, my legs were starting to burn from the half squat, but I didn’t think my ass was ready to take her full dick. She looked into my eyes, knowing exactly what was happening and said, “Look at me” and she pulled sharply on the chain while lifting her legs upward, forcing my legs apart and forcing me onto her dick.



My legs collapsed and I sat down fully, her cock stretching my ass painfully as she took my virginity. I screamed and she stroked my face, wiping the sweat away, “Such a good slut, getting fucked in the ass for the first time. It hurts but soon you’ll be ready for me wherever we are.” She shifted around on the chair, seating the cock deeply in my butt. “If we’re out to dinner in a restaurant I’ll take you into the bathroom and fuck you bent over the sink, looking into the mirror at what a slut you’ve become. On hikes I’ll bend you over park benches for a quickie. You’ll beg for it, because you know you’re an ass slut.” As Jo-Sei talked she started slowly circling her hips, opening me up. The pain in my ass diminished and I felt a warming in my ass as my cock swelled again to full size.



“When we go to a party, you know that at some point in the evening you’ll be on your knees with my dick in your mouth. I’ll take you to strip clubs and tell the strippers that you’re my ass whore and while you put dollars in her g-string during a private dance, I’ll be fucking you silly,” she told me, matter of factly. Her cock started to move up and down, plowing my ass open. I moaned deeply and moved my ass down to meet her thrusts, timing the movements to her motions.

“A gift from General Assad, M’am.”



She uncoiled her long legs and slunk over to the prisoner. “He’s not the usual kind I like.”



The quartermaster shrugged. “There weren’t many left after the General was finished.



She nodded, circling the bedraggled man like a shark. “So, he’s the only one to survive questioning… who is he?”



“No idea. All NATO pigs look alike to me.



The circles grew tighter, then suddenly stopped. “You could have cleaned him up!”



“He was hosed down, M’am.”



“That I can see,” she said, admiring the shapes within his wet underclothes. He wasn’t a bad specimen, probably from the United Kingdom judging from his pallor and freckled skin. She had heard tales that these Northern savages had tremendous stamina.



“He will do,” she said, dismissing the escort with a flick of her wrist.



She took up her crop and rested it lightly on his shoulder. “Tell me, soldier, how long have you been away from home?”



The man turned toward her voice, but said nothing.



He probably spoke no Arabic; none of these ill-educated Westerners did. She repeated the question in English, letting her full-throated voice caress each vowel.



He stood mute, but there was movement behind the blindfold.



“A very long time, no? A long time away from your home… and from your woman.”



His jaw worked silently as the crop drifted down his chest. “You lay awake many nights, thinking about her, dreaming about her…” She slipped the crop into his waistband. “How good she feels in your arms, her skin so soft, her pussy so wet…”



The riding crop grazed him and he swallowed hard. “So far away in a desert land… what can a man do?” she whispered, pressing the crop into his groin. It buckled against the movement stirring there. “Restraint is so difficult…”



The bulge within his wet pants was promising. He hissed as she snatched the crop away. “And now you suffer at the hands of your captor,” she laughed. “Desire is a cruel mistress, no?”



He grimaced and mumbled something unintelligible. This one hadn’t been completely silenced by Assad. That pleased her.



She struck him sharply across the thighs and he fell to his knees. “If you wish to speak, it would be wise to be polite,” she said calmly, tracing his jawline with the crop. She wondered what kind of devil eyes were hidden behind the fold.



It was more exciting not to know. “I am not unkind,” she said softly. “I can ease your suffering; provided you… ease mine.”



He wet his lips. “What would you have me do?” he croaked.



“Do as you are told, without question.”



“And will you unshackle me?”



“Only if the service of your hands is needed.”



His lips curled slightly and the trap sprang shut. Curiosity would be his undoing.



She hiked up her skirt. “I have something here for you. Would you like to know what it is?”



He murmured a faint assent. She slipped off her panties and brushed them against his lips. “Can you guess?”



He jerked at the touch, nostrils flaring. “I can guess well enough.”



“Very good! You are a fast learner.” She seated herself in front of him and opened her legs. “Let us see what other skills you possess.”



With her crop she guided him forward. “Lick my clitoris with your tongue,” she said, tapping him lightly on the back. “Gently now, as a kitten at a bowl of cream…”



She threw her head back as he performed, cautiously at first, then with a marked enthusiasm. It was not unfounded rumor that these foreign men delighted in the pussy. But this one was particularly skilled, much more so than the others. He needed no specific instruction. He mumbled in his guttural dialect as his tongue washed over her, flicking softly.



She did not want to take her pleasure too quickly. “Stop now,” she ordered and pulled down his pants. His cock sprang up, long and hard. She hoped he drilled as well as he dined.



“You will fuck me now, but slowly and deeply. And you will withhold your orgasm,” she warned, “or I shall send you back to Assad. Do you understand?”



He nodded, panting now. He shifted forward and sank his cock like a stone. She moaned as it slid in and churned slowly back and forth. This man knew how to properly fuck the pussy; she might have to reassign him. It would be a waste to let this talent rot in one of Assad’s holding cells.



Without prompting, he bucked his hips and drove into the upper reaches of her pussy, drawing out her climax like a long-winded scream. It rolled over her, quashing self-control. She dropped her riding crop and howled.



“Stop now!” she cried as the last of the rolls ebbed away. He obeyed and pulled out his swollen cock as she rang for her staff.



“Tell the General that I have decided to keep this man in my service,” she said, heedless of her state of undress. “And make the arrangements immediately!”



Her assistant scuttled away. She turned and regarded her captive for a moment. “And now,” she said, reaching down between his legs, “let’s see what other pleasures we might find….”

Liam found the tiny little stall down at the end of a long, crooked alley on the edge of a ratty, infrequently-frequented bazaar in a part of town that had seen better days. Really, he wasn’t surprised that he’d never heard of it, despite the revolutionary nature of its products. The salesman obviously didn’t care much about finding new business.



Liam would never have found the place if he hadn’t been wandering the streets in a daze, but then again, he probably never would have needed to. He’d just been walking without even looking where he was going, letting his feet take him wherever they wanted, while his brain continued to relive the worst moment of his life. The moment when Charlotte told him she didn’t love him.



“It’s not that I don’t like you,” she said in his head as he relived it all over again. “You’re a very sweet man, and I…I’m sure we’ll always be fast friends.” She practically had tears in her liquid, expressive eyes, hurt at having to hurt someone she cared about (but not in that way.) “It’s just that…I don’t feel the same way about you that you do about me, Liam. It wouldn’t be fair to either one of us to try to make a relationship work that way.” Her hands were trembling as she continued restocking books. “You know I care about you, but…I just don’t love you. Not like that.”



Maybe Charlotte wasn’t capable of loving anyone like that. She was shy, demure, sweetly pretty and innocent in a way that made Liam want to sweep her up in his arms and hold her safe against the world…but maybe people like that didn’t fall in love. Maybe they just had cats. Maybe Charlotte would never give her heart away. He almost hoped so. He couldn’t bear it if she gave it away to someone else. He couldn’t bear it now, working so close to her at the library and knowing he’d never be able to touch her, never be able to stroke her soft blonde hair, gaze longingly into her deep blue eyes and see his love returned…and so he just walked up and down the streets, little caring where he went or what happened to him, and he eventually wound up down at the end of a long, crooked alley where the crowds never went, staring up at a hand-lettered sign saying, ‘Emotions’.



Below the sign, an elderly man sat on a stool, occasionally taking sips from a deep green bottle. More bottles lined the shelves behind him, each one a different shade of green, each one unlabeled and stoppered with a cork. The man himself wore faded, but elegant clothes, and although he had very few hairs remaining, those he did have were elegantly combed. He fixed Liam with a piercing gaze through bifocal spectacles, and said, “Women troubles?”



Liam stopped short. “It’s no business of yours, sir, not to be rude.”



The man grinned. “Ah, but it’s exactly a business of mine. It is, in fact, the business of mine.” He pointed up at the sign. “‘Emotions’, right? My name is Emery St. Lune de Clair, Esquire, but that’s a bit of a mouthful so I’m generally just known as ‘Em’. And trust me when I say that it was Fate that steered you down this alleyway to my little shop. Because I have the answer to all your problems.”



Liam frowned. “Nobody has an answer to my problems.”



“Oh, but I tell you I do,” Em said, leaning forward on his stool. “‘Emotions’ is the name of my shop, and emotions are what I sell. The bottles behind me contain pure emotion, bottled and stoppered and available for purchase. I’ve sold Sorrow to men who have to appear sad at the death of a rival, Joy to housewives, Hate to soldiers, and I assure you, sir, you are not the first person who wished they could buy Love, and you will not be the last.”



Liam rolled his eyes. “And I also wouldn’t be the first person to be fooled by a fake ‘love potion’, nor would I be the last. Excepting, you understand, that I won’t. Because I have no intention of buying any ‘love potions’ from you.”



Em spun on his stool, grabbed a bottle from the shelf, grabbed another, and spun back. “Sir, I take no offense at your blatant slander of my wares, and do you know why? Because I have heard the cries of men such as you speak about, men who sell frauds and fakeries and prey upon the gullible. I am accustomed to calumnies and slurs upon my honor as a salesman, but they worry me not. And why? Because I speak the unvarnished truth. And I can prove it.” He withdrew a tiny glass from underneath the counter, and poured the tiniest quantity of liquid from one of the two bottles into it. “This, sir, is a sample of my wares, a pure bottled emotion. Drink this, sir, and I guarantee you, you will believe my words.”



Liam reached for the cup. “Is it ‘Essence of Gullibility’, perhaps?” he asked sarcastically. Still, he eyed the liquid and shrugged. The quantity was so small, he assumed that he would be able to weather whatever effects it had upon him. With a gulp, he downed it all.



For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, a memory from his childhood struck him. It had been a long time, but the warm sweetness of the summer sun felt like a physical presence as he thought back to a day, twenty years past, of overturning rocks for worms, bending a fish-hook out of a safety pin, and catching a two-pound trout on a piece of string. His friends and family had been amazed at the size of the creature, wriggling on the end of the improvised hook, and they had eaten fresh fish that night…



With a pang of loss, the memory faded again. “That, sir, was pure Nostalgia. I wouldn’t recommend indulging in it too often, though. It’s always dangerous to live in the past. Especially,” and he wiggled the other bottle in his hand, “when the future suddenly seems to be looking up.”



Liam gaped, open-mouthed, at the bottle. “How much?”



“Depends on the young lady in question. If she already likes you, I’d say you shouldn’t need more than half the bottle. If she doesn’t know you exist, you’ll probably need the full dose. If she can’t stand the sight of you, buy a second bottle just to be safe. Make sure she’s looking at you when she drinks it, or she might wind up with some other young man.”



Liam stammered out, “I–I meant price. How much? For the bottle, that is. I’ll only need the one. Or the half.”



Emery scratched his chin. “Seeing as how you’re a downtrodden man, I’ll call it a bargain. Five hundred dollars.”



Liam didn’t even attempt to bargain. He practically flung a handful of bills at Em, snatched the bottle away, and ran down the alley with wings of love on his feet.



*****



He arrived back at the library just after closing time. His key let him in, and thankfully Charlotte was still refiling the periodicals before going home for the night. “Oh!” she said with a start. “I hadn’t expected you to return so soon. I thought you might have wanted a bit of time to…to think.”



Liam smiled. “I’ve done all the thinking I need to do,” he said. “You were honest with me, and no man can demand more than the truth of the heart. Come have a cup of tea with me, as a friend.”



Grateful for his kind response, Charlotte couldn’t help but agree. When he offered to make the tea while she finished up, she blushed slightly and thanked him for his kindness. He stepped into the small lounge reserved for librarians, and made them each a cup of tea–and to hers, he added slightly more than a half a bottle of pure Love.



After a few minutes, she joined him in the lounge, and he gestured to her cup while picking up his own. Not trusting himself to speak, he simply drank his tea in silence while watching her.



After her first few sips, it seemed as though a light filled her eyes. By the time she had finished the drink, she was breathing hard, her hands simply could not keep still, and the light that had seemed to fill her eyes now suffused her whole body. He smiled at her, gently, and she smiled at him in return. She opened her mouth, closed it again, opened it once more but this time put her hand in front of it, then finally removed her hand. Liam waited patiently for her first words of sweet, gentle love.



“Get your pants off,” she said. “I want to see that pretty little ass of yours.”



Liam blinked in shock, scarcely able to comprehend the words he’d heard, let alone their presence in the mouth of an angel like Charlotte. Charlotte, for her part, took her chair and wedged it under the doorknob of the door to the lounge. “Just in case someone tries to come in,” she said. “I don’t have any intention of being interrupted before I’m done with you.”



Liam stammered, “I–Charlotte–that is–are you feeling alright?”



She smiled. “I’m feeling wonderful, Liam.” She walked back over to where he sat. “But I’m not pleased that you haven’t gotten those pants off yet.” She grabbed his tie and pulled him to his feet with a strength he scarcely thought possible from her. “Perhaps you need me to give that pretty little ass a paddling before you understand that when I say I want something, I want it now.” She reached down and gave his trousers a sharp yank, pulling them down.



“Charlotte,” Liam said, looking down then up as if unsure what demanded his attention more, “something’s–I mean, you never–”



“You’re right, Liam,” Charlotte said as she took her own clothes off. “I did never. I never noticed you, I never understood what I was capable of, I never saw how sweet it could be to have you kneeling before Me, your gentle breath on My pussy…” She curled her fingers into his dark hair, and yanked hard, driving him forward onto his knees. “I think I’ll make up for lost time now.”



Liam tried to speak, to again protest at her sudden change in personality, but his voice was muffled as she pressed his face against her womanhood. “Now, lick,” she said. “Do a very good job, and I might just forget about the spanking you so richly deserve.”



Liam’s face flushed red, and with some effort, he pulled away just enough to speak. “Darling…” he said.



She pulled his hair back, forcing him to look into her eyes. “Mistress.”



“Of–of course. Mistress…perhaps we should do this somewhere less public? Your apartment, perhaps, or mine? It…doing this here, in the library, it doesn’t seem…”



She grinned, a lustful parody of her former sweet smile. “You’ll grow used to it,” she said. “I plan on using you every day, right here in the library. Perhaps I’ll conceal a few toys, fuck your pretty little ass right here in the lounge…” She saw the frightened look in his eyes. “But we’ll work our way up to that,” she said. “For now, I’ll let you have your way–but expect a punishment for contradicting your Mistress, My sweet slave. Meet Me at My apartments in four hours.” She pulled her dress back on, leaving her undergarments on the floor. “I have some shopping to do.”



Liam pulled his clothes back on. Me too, he added silently. Me too.



*****



When he returned to the crooked alley, he half-expected the shop to be gone, just like the phantom stores in the children’s tales. But the little stall was there, and Emery was just locking it up for the evening. When he saw Liam coming, though, he paused in his work.



“Back for something more already, sir?” he asked. “Perhaps a bit of Acceptance for the parents, or just a dram of Lust for those special occasions?”



Liam slammed the green bottle down on the counter. “I want to know what you did to Charlotte, sir! She’s gone mad! Your ‘Love’ has transformed her from a sweet and gentle maid to a wanton whore and a brazen trollop! Tell me what is in this, sir, or I’ll–I’ll–”



Em picked up the bottle. “Calm down, sir, calm down. All that’s in this,” he said, holding up the bottle to the fading sunlight, “is the purest, simplest love that–oh.” He bit gently at his lower lip.



“‘Oh’?” Liam was red with anger now. “Is that all you can say? ‘Oh’? What does ‘oh’ mean?”



Emery rubbed his head, disturbing the few remaining hairs. “Well, it looks like this particular bottle isn’t quite pure.” He held up the bottle again. “See the little black specks in there? That’s a touch of Pride, a slight dash of Lust, a tiny bit of Perversion, and a speck or two of Ambition. She loves you, alright, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s going to be very particular about how she expresses that love. Might be a bit of a shock, sir, if she was as delicate a woman as you say.”



“Oh. A bit of a shock. Yes, I see. That describes it perfectly, doesn’t it? Charlotte behaves like–like–she does things I can’t even describe to you, sir, and all you can say is that it’s a ‘bit of a shock’? What the devil do you plan to do about it?”



Em looked down at his shoes for a long moment. “Well, I’m only the seller–the problem is in the draught, sir, which is the fault of the bottler. Now, I can put you in touch with the man who does that, but I’ll warn you now he’s a temperamental man…and I use ‘man’ in the purely metaphorical sense. He’s not one to suffer complaints lightly. Even if you do catch him in a good mood, the best he’ll be able to do is undo the effects of the potion, leaving you in the same boat you were in when you came to me. Before you try that, I suggest this.” He reached back onto the shelves, and pulled out another green bottle. “Have her drink the full bottle of this, and I think that you’ll be happier with the results than you might have imagined. And, since you’ve had such a hard day, I think I can give this to you at a substantial discount. Only a thousand dollars.”



Liam bristled with fury. “You’re charging me for it?”



Em had the decency to compose his features into a sympathetic expression. “When a man needs a life preserver, sir, it doesn’t become him to ask questions of his rescuer. It’s a rare and precious emotion I’m selling you, sir, and during a time when I have you over a barrel. Consider it a mark of our true friendship and my sincere regret that I’m letting you have it so cheap.”



Liam snarled, but pulled out his wallet and slammed another bill onto the table. He grabbed the bottle, and stalked off without another word.



*****



When Liam arrived at Charlotte’s apartments, four and a half hours had passed since they parted at the library. The moment he arrived at her rooms, he could tell she wasn’t happy.



She had found an outfit of dark red leather, one which clung to her like a second skin. It wasn’t simply immodest, it was the antithesis of modesty–her breasts and womanhood were totally exposed, the leather cunningly worked to leave those most shocking parts of the anatomy open to the air. She held a riding crop in her hand, and her expression was one that suggested she’d been hoping he would transgress her latest commands. “You’re late,” she said, a wicked grin on her face. “Get your clothes off and get into the position for punishment.”



Liam held out the bottle. “I–I’m sorry I was late, er, Mistress. I was procuring you a…” he thought fast. “A tribute! This rare cordial, for your pleasure.”



She took it from his hand. “Thank you, slave,” she said, removing the cork. “Don’t think this gets you off the hook, though.” She drained a gulp of the bottle. “I’m still planning to redden that sweet…sweet…” She shook her head as if to clear it, and drained another draught of the liquid. “I…” With a shudder, she gulped the rest of the fluid down. “Amazing, pet. Amazing.”



Liam watched her carefully. “Do you feel…different?”



She closed her eyes for a long moment. “I do. I feel…I…” She opened her eyes–no, Her eyes–again and fixed them on Liam, and it was as though he had gazed into a newborn star. “I feel amazing,” She said. She stepped forward, radiating power and majesty. Liam dropped to his knees, struck by Her beauty as though he was in the presence of a god. Perhaps, he thought absently, he was.



“You’re still wearing clothes,” She said, and Liam ripped three buttons getting them off as fast as he could. “Good boy.”



Liam fell to his hands and knees, his penis hard as a rock, and begged for the crop. She smiled down at him–and how could he have ever seen that as anything but perfect? Her smile made him felt desirable, wanton, aroused and helpless like he belonged to Her, and he understood now how true that was… She stepped forward and slashed the crop down in a single stroke, and he shivered with a potent mixture of pleasure and pain. “Count for Me,” she said.



“…one…” he gasped out. She reached down with Her other hand and gently stroked his flesh, then whipped the crop down again. “…two…” Every stroke of the crop made him whimper, but he managed to keep the count as She brought the crop down again and again, punishing him so sweetly…he gasped in pleasure just from knowing that She was pleased with Her pet.



When She had reddened his cheeks to Her satisfaction, She sat down in the room’s only chair and beckoned him forward with Her legs spread. He eagerly crawled forward, and this time She needed no hands on his head to press his face into Her pussy. He licked ravenously at her flesh, circling Her clit again and again with his tongue, licking deep into Her wonderful pussy and feeling Her sweet juices run out onto his tongue as She came again and again. The perfect scent of Her womanhood made him swoon, but he was already on his knees. All he wanted to do was please Her. All he could do was please Her.



Finally, She allowed him to stand. “Stroke yourself,” She said, and he could not help but obey. “That’s right–your cock is Mine, now, Liam. I control its pleasure, I control its needs, I control you.” liam gasped helplessly with arousal, gazing at Mistress Charlotte’s beauty like a desert dweller looking upon an oasis. “I am a merciful and loving Mistress, so I will give you pleasure, but you must understand that it is mine to give.” liam stroked faster now, panting with need. “I am your Mistress, and you are My pet, My slave, My obedient plaything, and simply knowing that gives you pleasure. Now, slave…” She leaned back to watch… “Come for Me.” With a final tortured moan, liam’s cock shot semen all over Charlotte’s feet and legs.



“This will be the way of it between us from now on, liam,” she said. “Your thoughts on that?”



Liam lay on the floor, gently kissing Her feet. “i live to please You, Mistress,” he said.



*****



The next morning, Em opened his shop as usual. Yesterday had been a good one as far as he was concerned. Got rid of the last of that tainted batch of Love, sold some Charisma, and it seemed like that boy would be another satisfied customer.



Or at least, he thought as he swigged a bit more of his usual blend of Amorality and Cynicism, one who wouldn’t bother him again.



THE END

After a rather hectic couple of days with my mature cougar Carole I felt more like resting up than getting together with my girl friend Gemma. But when I got back to my flat my flatmate Mike had said that he had been fielding calls from Gemma on my mobile which I had ‘forgotten’ to take with me for my weekend with Carole.



When I ‘phoned’ her she said that she had really missed me over the weekend but a crowd were going out for a meal and she would love me to join them. And free from exams she would love to make it up to me what I had been missing all week. As I rather reluctantly agreed to meet up with her and her university friends I thought that she would be rather shocked at just how much I hadn’t missed out on sex as I had packed almost a week of sex into a couple of days with Carole.



However I simply said ‘I’m a bit tired from travelling and the work over the weekend but I couldn’t help thinking of your beautiful ass in that red g-string and skirt and would love you to wear it for me tonight’.



I could hear her hesitate before saying ‘It’s a bit gross but if you want me too I will. We are meeting at Rick’s at 8.00.’ This time it was me who hesitated because that’s where I had been with Carole two nights previously!



I had a quick bite to eat and went to bed to sleep off my exertions of the weekend and it was nearly 7.30 before I woke and after a quick shower I didn’t get to Rick’s until nearly 8.30. Gemma was in the middle of a crowd of guys and girls from her year and in a white lowish cut strappy top her little tits and long nipples were well displayed and as requested I could see she had worn the skirt I liked. The top also showed off a little bit of side cleavage which I love. She looked very pretty but I couldn’t help comparing her unfavourably with the body of the mature woman with whom I had just spent a no limits weekend.



I didn’t have to just mentally compare them because I had hardly started my first pint when I heard a one of the guys in the company say ‘That’s what I call a woman’ and I turned round to see Carole enter the restaurant with a good looking well preserved guy in his early fifties.



Carole looked fantastic in a black low cut and obviously very expensive dress almost slashed to the navel, very tight and clinging to her big ripe ass and about 5″ above the knee teamed up with a black seamed stockings and quite high heels. She smiled as she walked past and I noticed that she sat in a position so she could look at our group. She looked exactly what she was — a fantastically sexy woman just built for sex. There were some very complimentary comments passed about her within our group by the guys as they watched her big bum cheeks bouncing to her table and some catty ones by the women. I personally was in a state of turmoil as to whether I should acknowledge her or not as well as thinking to myself — I’ve fucked that big woman they are all lusting after in virtually every way possible including buggering that big mature ass.



When I went past their table she solved it for me by getting up and offering her hand, saying ‘I thought that was you — Mark isn’t it?’ . Turning to her husband she said ‘Bob this is the young man I was telling you about who stopped the guys bothering me in Starbucks.’ As he got up to shake my hand and thank me I have to say I did feel a little bit guilty at being thanked when I had been shagging his wife all weekend.



When I came back Gemma asked how I knew them and I said I had stopped a couple of guys bothering her in Starbucks — she rather cattily said ‘Well if you’re her age and showing off what you’ve got I suppose you’ve got to expect guys coming on to you.’



Anyway , cover story in place, I relaxed enough to enjoy my meal and a night with plenty to drink.



I noticed Carole having a look at Gemma as we walked past their table to the bar but I didn’t see Carole and her husband leave and as Gemma normally just a wine drinker had moved on to the shorts my attention had moved to her and I enjoyed watching her pert ‘though ripe ass well displayed in the red g-string and sheer skirt going and coming from the loo.



We moved on to another bar with Gemma getting increasingly drunk and quite amorous and in spite of my exertions the previous night I was soon felling randy again — to my shames probably thinking I would enjoy the contrast of taking Gemma’s slim body after having had serious fun with Carole’s ripe one.



When we got a taxi back to my flat as we kissed there was very little ceremony about me getting Gemma’s top off and groping her firm little 32A tits. With her long nipples they had a different appeal to Carole’s big dangling 40c’s but I still found them sexy in a different kind of way. In fact the complete contrast between their two bodies was a turn on — one slim and youthful and the other mature and ripe.



Small tits bouncing I pulled her through to the bedroom and taking her skirt off I admired her long slim thighs with the exciting space between them which led to her very pretty little shaven pussy. Again I couldn’t help thinking of the difference between this pretty little pussy mound and the girlish pussy lips and Carole’s big handful of pussy mound and insatiable box in which I had spent quite a bit of the weekend. .



She rather melted against me whispering ‘ I have really missed being with you and I have looked forward to this all weekend.’



To my shame I said ‘Would you like to show me how much?’



She smiled and rather drunkenly said ‘ I’m all yours.’



In a fit of lust I turned her round and bending her over the bed I grated ‘Well what about that ass of yours?’



‘We’ve tried that before and it hurt.’



‘Well I’ve been wanting it all weekend since I saw your ass in the g-string and sheer skirt and I’m sure most of the guys tonight felt the same. That ass of yours is made for buggering and I want to be the one to break you in.’



Pulling her string aside I parted her hips and tongued her little brown puckered hole. I heard her murmur ‘mmm that’s quite nice.’ So I tried to insert a finger and hear her say ‘ Don’t just let’s make love as normal.’ With a few drinks in me this really did annoy me that my girl friend would refuse me what a big mature married woman had enjoyed giving me all weekend, so I persisted.



Again she resisted so I went to the bathroom and found some shaving gel which I splashed between her pert 34″ hips before once again starting to put my fingers into her. Once again she said ‘ Mark, I don’t really want this — it will hurt.’



‘Gemma, I really do want to fuck you in the ass and I’ve been wanting to do it all weekend. Will you not at least try it?’



Rather resignedly she murmured assent and put her ass up to be ridden. I covered my very hard cock with gel and started to ease the head in. This was a totally different ball game to getting into Carole’s well used anus as Gemma was very tight and not at all relaxed. However I was rock hard with lust and determined . As I forced the head into her she screamed and tried to pull away moaning that I was far too thick and was ripping her. But this just fuelled my lust more and grabbing her by her pretty girlish buttocks as she tried to pull away from me, I pushed my cock hard into her. Initially she was moaning and tried to pull away from me but soon realised I was determined and as she stopped fighting the penetration I was soon in her up to my balls. The tightness of her sphincter on my cock was really exciting and getting what I had desired for so long also drove me into something of a fenzy of lust and I totally ignore her moans ‘to take it easy’ as I really gave her up her virgin ass.



It was really satisfying to deposit my cum deep within her virginal bowels and as I came off she fell forward whimpering on the bed. To my shame being drink fuelled I found that the fact that I had taken her hard and it had hurt her to be arousing and as I lay embedded in her I realised I was hardening again. Kissing her on the neck I grabbed two handfuls of small tit and started to thrust gently into her again.



‘Mark, it’s hurting’



‘I want you again — I have wanted your rear for so long. I’ll be a little more gentle and hopefully now that you’re opened up it won’t be as bad if you relax — now ease back on to me.’



As she eased back on to me it reminded me of how Carole had so willingly pushed her big ripe buttocks back to take my cock up her big ass and I started to thrust deeply into Gemma. Once again she started moaning with pain which I ignored and really buggered her hard again.



This time when I climaxed my lust was completely spent and I withdrew to let her flop forward on the bed moaning that I had really hurt her and that I had ripped her anus and really bruised her inside. Having achieved my objective of giving her it up her pretty little virgin ass I did feel guilty momentarily when I saw her ass was seeping a mixture of blood and cum. But then the thought that I should have had it before now and would be enjoying it in the future replaced that thought.



When she came out of the bathroom having tidied up her rear she had sobered up dramatically and was extremely annoyed with me. She asked me to call her a taxi as she was disgusted with me for what I had done. In spite of it being nearly 3.30 I could not persuade her to stay and in fact we had a blazing row when I said you would have thought she was the only woman who had ever taken it up the ass. She said she thought that I had loved and respected her and not just simply wanted to abuse her body.



I said I did love her and loved making love to her in any way but that in future would include her ass. She said it wouldn’t!



I had mixed feelings when I put her into the taxi and told her I would call her the next day. After my exertions with the two women over the weekend I slept late and Pete had gone into the library — no real vacation for research students — the ‘phone wakened me at c 11.30. I thought it would be Gemma but to my pleasant surprise it was Carole.



She said it appeared I had a busy weekend and I could almost imagine her smile when I said I was recovery from it now. She went on to say my girlfriend was very pretty and I’m sure I had some fun with her too. I blurted out that after our weekend together I had rather blotted my copy book by insisting on taking Gemma’s ass and she hadn’t particularly liked it. She laughed and said most women don’t find it great the first time — she hadn’t — but as I knew she had learned to like it and she had found most men loved it. When I said I had really enjoyed having her rear and in fact everything with her over the weekend — it had been fantastic . She said ‘likewise.’



She went on to tell me that she and Bob had quite a good session on Sunday night when they got home from the restaurant and as she was sucking his cock to get him up again to ride her pussy after he had fucked her ass, he had surprised her by saying that he had got the impression that she and I had sort of fancied each other and that I was the sort of young guy he wouldn’t mind her seeing discreetly — if she had to have someone else service her. When she asked him how he would fancy a threesome with her and me she had felt him stiffen and realised that was an option we could consider. After he fucked her he admitted that he was up for anything that would stop her being an ass slut for black footballers and if I was up for it we could both service her jointly and individually.



I hadn’t ever had a full sexual threesome before — yes I had been with mates with girls who we had all groped before one of us had taken them off to shag them. But since I had heard from Carole about her being with a lot of guys I had tried to visualise what it would be like to team a woman. But to ride a woman in front of her husband and/or join with him in double teaming her was something else. I said that while I would love to see her again and I would definitely be up for sharing her with one or two mates I wasn’t sure about a threesome with her hubby.



I suggested we both sleep on it and I would call her the next day.



I had some lunch and still no call from Gemma. So at 3.00pm I called her. Her friend Helen answered the ‘phone and said Gemma had gone into the Uni to see the nurse but she was really pissed off with the way I had treated her. When I said ‘It was no big deal — it was only something that everyone does.’ When I rather bluntly asked her did she and her boyfriend not have anal sex — she said they did have occasionally but that he never had sent her home ripped and bleeding as I had done with Gemma. I asked Gemma to call me.



Gemma called about 5.00 and when I asked her how she was she said rather incongruously that not only was she quite badly hurt but her skirt was completely ruined as she had bled in the taxi. She had had to go to student health to get anorectal local anaesthetic cream as she couldn’t even sit down. She said that she still loved me but asked me to say that I wouldn’t do it again to her.



She was quite annoyed and out the ‘phone down on me when I said I had really enjoyed anal sex with her and would love to do it again.



I wasn’t that concerned because I knew I had a very sexy alternative already in place in Carol and called her to see her the following day for lunch.



Over the next two weeks , I didn’t hear from Gemma and Carole and I had an absolute sexual ball including a session with her hubby. One night I was at a bar in town with Carole when Gemma walked in with some friends. She was shocked to see me with a much older and sophisticated woman whereas I thought Gemma looked great and realised how much I missed her. Two days later she took the initiative and called me.



Initially she said she was surprised to see me with someone so old but supposed I was getting all I wanted and needed sexually from her but then she said how much she missed me and asked me could we not just meet as friends for a drink. That drink led to us starting to go out again as a couple although I still continued to see Carole with whom I had further fun with threesomes with her husband and some of my friends and even a MMMF foursome with two of my friends.



In addition my downward spiral into sexual obsession included getting Gemma involved in a bit of sexual exhibitionism, buggering her regularly and having a couple of threesomes with my friends.

Before you go any further: this is another episode in the Twighlight Zone series, all of which are connected (loosely) to a store by the same name. Each story is somewhat of a standalone; while characters from one episode may appear in other episodes, don’t expect storyline continuation from one episode to the next. If you really like characters, let me know and I may develop them in a further story.



As an author and an artist, there have been times that I have looked back on a piece of work and seen something so alien to my current thought that I wondered who it was that really created the item in question.



This story is one of those times.



I have no idea what muse guided my hands across the keyboard, or where many of the things in “The Art Critic” came from, and therefore have no reasons or excuses. This story pretty much touches on a hell of a lot of fetishes out there: bondage, consensual/reluctant/non-consensual sex, anal/vaginal and oral sex (mostly between men and women), toys and masturbation, mind control, latex and leather, tickling, caning, body modification, forced adultery, a little CBT, cuckoldry, transexual and transgender scenes, and a whole lot of Female Dominance (in capital letters, since that is the overall theme). Add to that a very sarcastic victim, and you get the fourth in the Twighlight Zone series.



If none of that is your thing, don’t bother reading further.



I’ve done a major rewrite in order to close some plot holes and correct some missteps, as well as correct a lot of grammatical problems. I am sure I missed a few, so your patience and understanding is welcomed. In addition, I added a bit here and there were it was called for.



In all, it is the story of a man thrown into a situation out of his control, and with each step forward that he takes to get out, he slips two backward into debauchery. All the while, he has to deal with what is happening to his personality, his body, and to his relationship with his wife. I can only hope you enjoy.




The Twighlight Zone, Chapter Four, by Seurat



‘The Art Critic’








Wednesday, May 8th.



THWOCK! The racquetball hit high and wide right on the front wall. A hard shot to return, but not impossible. I lunged for the return and put away the kill into the corner. My point, giving me the second game. “Nice shot” said my opponent, a Ms. Tara Worthington. She was cute, sexy, and dressed in spandex shorts and a loose fitting T-shirt. I had noticed she wasn’t wearing any bra during the first game, and that realization was probably why I lost. It made the second game a close one, but I had squeaked out a win. In point of fact she was almost as good as me, but she had a way of twisting and arching for shots that distracted me to no end, and definitely gave her an edge that compensated for my lead in ability.



I don’t know if you have ever played racquetball, but it can be very tiring. Third games are always the worst for me, even though they only go to eleven. By the time I get that far, I don’t have a whole lot of directional power left. Power, yes. Direction, no. I just hoped I could hit the ball into a corner where she couldn’t return it. The first few serves went off the way I wanted. Strong, fast, and so powerful that when I hit the ball, my stroke lifted me off the ground. By the time I lost the serve I was up 5-0. Her first serve was an ace, and not because it was fast. Just before she hit the ball she bent over, and the spandex (or rather what was in the spandex) distracted me. On the next serve she wiggled a little and it had the desired effect: another ace. I may be married, but I’m not dead, and I was really beginning to notice her body.



By this time she knew exactly what effect she was having on me and my game. She was constantly wiggling a little, or smiling, or licking her lips. By the time I returned a serve she was up 9-5. She was so surprised that I made a return that she stood there and watched as I took the serve back.



At this point, the muscles in my legs and arms were so tired they were quivering. I am not an athlete, nor am I a young college man. A night of racquetball was pretty much my exercise for the week, and the game tonight was more strenuous than I expected. If I could keep the power going, I might just pull off a win. The first serve was fast and low, and her return was short. Same with the second. 7-9. I gave her a lob and she was caught off guard. Two more power shots and I was up 10-9, a point away from victory. She returned my next shot and we volleyed for a while before she put it away. Just like me she tried to put away the next two serves. They were screwy back corner lobs, but I returned one for a kill and we were tied 10-10.



I stood in the sever area, trying to catch my breath. “Ready?”



“Hot, wet, and ready, yes” she replied. I bounced the ball and brought the racquet around just as her words hit me. The ball went high off the front, and she slammed it high for a wall hugger on the far side. I sprinted across in a valiant attempt to catch it on the rebound, and only succeeded in slamming into the wall. “Sorry, but I couldn’t resist. If you want the serve over, I understand.” I shook my head to decline the offer. Tied 10-10, a point away.



She bounced the ball a few times as she walked to the lines. She turned around, looked at me, and made a show of giving the ball a squeeze. “Ready for me?” I would’ve swore the temperature on the court went up 10 degrees. I nodded.



The ball moved so fast off the front wall that I didn’t even see it coming. I should have, because it was aimed straight at me, and it caught me between the legs. I dropped to the ground and folded into the fetal position. No return made it her point, her game, and her match. I didn’t really care. I tried to uncurl my body and congratulate her, and decided instead to wait for a minute or two. Or five. Maybe even for the next presidential election. I was in no hurry.



Now, I’ve caught it in the crotch before, and always unexpectedly. No sane man takes it in the crotch on purpose. Usually, I recover fairly fast. A direct shot is painful, but it isn’t like getting kicked in the crotch. Normally, this is a point of impact pain. Unless, of course, you’re playing with a prick-tease and you have a hard-on straining against your shorts, because then getting hit then is like falling onto the bar of your bicycle. It hurts real bad, and you wonder if the pain will ever go away.



She waited until I started to get up before she asked if I was okay, and if I wanted to get some coffee or tea afterwards. At least I think that was when she asked me, as I was a little preoccupied. I agreed, and searched around for my goggles and glasses, both of which came off when I hit the ground. I could soon see again. Rather, I should say that things came in to focus again; I still had little stars of pain dancing in front of my eyes.



A little background before we go too far here. My name is Alan O’Neill, and I’m a critic for a local newspaper. I do everything from the rare restaurant opening to whether or not the latest vampire flick is any good. I specialize in art shows, and I had met Tara the night before at a show at the University. In fact, it was her show. We talked a little, and came on the subject of sports. That was how we ended up playing tonight.



When I first met her I thought she was attractive. She was short, for my tastes, about five-four, maybe five-five. Long curly black hair framed a delicate face with blue eyes, small nose and full lips. Her body was nice; not nice like when your wife gives you exercise equipment for Christmas and you didn’t think you needed it, but nice like what you say when you get caught by the same wife watching Kelly LeBrock in a movie you hate and she asks you if you think LeBrock has a sexy body and you tell her it’s just…nice. Let me just say it was athletic and firm…some parts so firm that I wasn’t sure they were all natural. I didn’t really care. To top it off, she had a definite hint of an English accent, something that I had always liked in a person.



I wasn’t going to be hitting on her. I am what they call happily married, and am also what they call a dog. I talk a good show, and always figured there was nothing wrong with looking as long as I didn’t touch. It doesn’t matter where you got your appetite, as long as you always ate at home.







As my mind came out of the haze of pain, I realized I had not only agreed to tea at her place, but to give her a ride home. She had evidently taken a cab to our match.



* * * * * * * * * *



I pulled up outside the gym in my sensible little two door, and let her in. I could tell she had not showered either, and her scent quickly filled the car, or at least that was the way it seemed. I was getting thoughts that a married man shouldn’t be getting. “Everything okay?” she asked, “I mean, you got hit pretty hard. I hope everything works okay.”



I decided to let that one slip by. I am no Don Juan, by anybody’s standards, but I know a pass when I hear one. I had to keep my mind on the goal: a little info on a locally showing artist, nothing more. I was not about to ruin my marriage for a piece of ass.



“Yeah, nothing that’s never happened before.” It was true. When you play racquetball, you take your life and genitals and pretty much hope they don’t get it by the ball, let alone a racquet or an elbow. She gave me directions to one of the nicer areas of the town, where rows of large brownstones lined the streets. Hers was like the others there, a one-car garage and basement entrance off the street, and a short flight of stairs led up to the main entry.



I parked in the drive and we headed up to the huge cherrywood and leaded glass front door. Inside was a tastefully decorated, if sparse, living room and dining area with a kitchen in back. Pieces of modern art and sculpture decorated the room. I’ve noticed that in my years of dealing with artists. Either their domiciles are a blank canvas, waiting to be painted, or they are crammed with clutter. True artists don’t quibble about style when they decorate; they throw together everything they like, and let critics be damned.



“Any particular type of tea?” she asked, walking across the room to the kitchen.



“No, as long as it’s hot.” I looked around. “Nice place you have here.”



Her voice rang from the kitchen. “Thanks. It used to be my father’s. He had made some good investments a few years back, and when he retired to Florida, I got this place. I’m still remodeling some parts, but it’ll be done to my tastes soon. Would you like honey in your tea?” I yelled back ‘yes’, and she returned to the living room, where I still stood, admiring the art. Force of habit, I guess. “Have a seat.”



I took the mug of tea, sat down on an overstuffed leather chair, and had another look around. “Most of this stuff your work?” It all seemed pretty eclectic, but the was some undercurrent that tied them all together. I figured it was the artist.







“Oh no. I just like to dabble in a little sculpture. This is actually my private collection. Mostly unknowns, but maybe someday they’ll be worth what I paid for them.”



“You live here, and support starving artists? Dad must have made some really good investments. Wish I could get into art that way.”



“I’m sure you’ll really get into art someday. I do have a day job. I’m a computer-technochemist for Baum-Dietrich Technologies. I have to have some way to relax.”



“Computer-technochemist?” I was in way over my head on this one. “Just what does a computer-technochemist do?”



“Right now, we’re developing synthetic nerve actuators. Sort of a replacement skin, which could be regulated through the use of micro-computers.” She could tell she was losing me fast, and I could tell she was on the way to change the subject. She looked at me for a moment, then asked, “more tea?”



Taking a quick look at the clock, I saw that I had plenty of time to get home before my wife. “Sure. Do you mind if I ask you some more questions, for my story? I’d like to get a good background on you for the article.”



The next move was pure textbook slapstick, though I probably couldn’t prove it. As she stood to get the teapot, her knee hit the table and her mug of tea was knocked into the air. As if in slow motion I watched it come right at me, dousing my left thigh and crotch with hot tea. Where my pain had previously settled to a dull roar, it now went off the ‘scalding’ scale.



“Shit! I’m really sorry.” She grabbed her sweat towel and rushed over as I tried in vain to dry of with some tissues from the table. She began to towel of my thigh and, before I could stop her, she began wiping my crotch too. Despite it’s recent abuses, my cock sprang to life at her touch. “Seems more got wet than I first thought.”



I grabbed her hand and pushed it away. “Please! I’m married, if you hadn’t noticed.” I showed her the gold band on my finger. It may sound feeble to you, but I was married, and didn’t want to forget. I said it as much for her benefit as my own.



“I didn’t mean anything. Really. Why don’t you run upstairs and shower off, while I wash your clothes. Unless you want to explain to your wife why your privates are covered in honey-tea. Upstairs, through the bedroom. Should be plenty of towels.” I got up and climbed up the spiral stairs. “Better hurry. You don’t want to have any stains there, do you?” My pace picked up.



I couldn’t believe how quickly my evening had gone downhill. What started as a ‘get to know you better for an article’ had become a ‘I am about to get naked in some strangers apartment after my genitals have been abused twice’.



I quick-stepped it back through the bedroom and into the bathroom, taking a quick look at the four-poster bed decorated with gossamer scarves and the other furnishings as I passed by. Once in the bathroom, I turned on the water and stripped out my clothes. My thigh and crotch were a bright red from the tea, but were starting to cool a bit. I put my glasses and wedding ring on the vanity (not everybody’s is tight on their finger, and I didn’t want to lose it down her drain), hopped under the hot spray and pulled the curtain shut. After a few moments I heard the door open, and a slight noise as my clothes were picked up. The door shut again. I finished the shower quickly. The water helped a lot in calming the pain. An ice pack later would be even better.



I reached out of the shower and grabbed a towel, and looked around as I dried myself off. The whole room was done in maroon and white, down to the soap in the dish and the toothbrush. The room felt a little odd, especially after the mashed together decorating I had seen downstairs. I toweled off my hair, put my glasses back on, and wrapped the towel around my waist and made a roll-over knot. Turning off the light, I stepped out into the bedroom.



There was a chair in one corner of the room with an odd looking terry-cloth robe lying across it. I say strange because it looked too bulky to be just a robe. As it was not there when I went into the bathroom, I figured it was for me and would do for me a lot better than just a towel. I undid the towel, letting it drop to the floor, and put on the robe. The lining of the robe was cotton; it was snug around my arms (probably wasn’t used to arms larger then Tara’s) and cinched it tight around my waist. The robe was cut high for a woman, and rode even higher on me, nearly exposing my genitals. I vowed not to sit down while wearing it.







“Guess that robe isn’t quite big enough for you,” she said from the bedroom doorway. I probably turned red enough to heat water. She walked over to me, her body swaying the way I had noticed in the court, and I could feel myself starting to get hard. “We should really find something a little more appropriately sized for you.” She stood in front of me an smiled. “I always did like that robe. You didn’t pull the sleeves down far enough, though. It can be a little tricky if you aren’t used to these kind of robes, I must say. Here, let me show you.” She stepped behind me. “Cross your arms in front of you.” I did as she asked, and felt her hands run up the sleeves a little, her left up my right, and vice-versa. The cotton lining stopped about halfway up my forearm, and by the time she reached them, she was giving me a tight hug from behind. I looked down to see my now stiff prick sticking out from the folds of the robe. This situation was getting decidedly uncomfortable. And it certainly wasn’t going in a direction I wanted it to go.



I felt her grab the ends of the sleeves and start to slide them down my forearm. With a suddenness that caught me completely unaware, Tara brought her knee up to the center of my back and pulled hard on the sleeves, and I heard some snaps pop. The sleeves slipped over my hands, and she somehow connected them behind me, effectively straight-jacketing me. Tara grabbed my shoulder as I started to protest and spun me around, throwing me off balance. With a smile of contempt she pushed my off-kilter body backwards, which caused me to fall on the bed.



“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?!”



She looked at me and laughed. “I figured we would have a little fun. Looks like you were figuring on it, too. The flesh seems willing enough.” With that she grabbed my cock, “Is the spirit just as willing?”



“I told you, I’m married! Now let me out of this thing!”



“If you really were happily married, you wouldn’t have come back to my house. And you certainly wouldn’t have such a big erection. Now move back onto the bed, before I make you do it myself.” I felt her fingernails jab into my flesh, and decided that, at the moment, I should probably go along with her.



I slid back on the bed so that my head was on the pillows. She got on the bed on walked over (on her knees) until she was straddling me, the earthy smell of her body preceding her. She looked me in the face, smiled, then looked at my crotch. She then leaned over and began kissing my neck, then my chest where it was exposed, then moved downward, finally stopped short just before reaching head of my cock. My head flopped back in frustration. Seeing her chance, she quickly moved up so that her knees were on the outsides of my arms, and sat back on my chest. “Now, I’m going to go change, and I don’t want you to go anywhere. Promise you won’t move?” I nodded. We both knew it was a lie.



“For some reason, I don’t believe you. But I do know how to help you keep your promise.” She reached below my crotch and under my ass, and pulled up another strap, this one about a half inch in width, and I felt a tug on the back of the robe. Tara pulled it up through my ass cheeks tightly, so that it felt like I had a wedgie. With her left hand she lifted my cock and balls up, and with her right wound the strap tightly twice around the base of my genitals. The strap then went back under itself and up to my crossed arms, which it circled twice, and was tied off on the headboard.



She walked around to the foot of the bed and pulled a scarf from under the bed and looped it around my left ankle, drawing the loop tight. I panicked and tried to get out, but realized that any attempt to escape might mean serious injury to my manhood. She stretched out the scarf, tying it to an unseen anchor at the bottom corner of the bed. She then did the same with my right ankle.



“Now, I’m going to change into something a little more appropriate. Don’t go anywhere. Like you would.”



With that she walked out of the room, and I heard her as she walked down the stairs. Even though I had come out of the shower only a few minutes ago, I was really starting to sweat. Remember what I said about my day going downhill? Well, that road had just ended at a cliff, and I couldn’t seem to brake. What to do? Struggle and try to get loose? Not likely. Scream for help? Who would hear, anyway? I could feel my heart trying to break out of my chest. All I could do was lie here and wait. I lifted my head and looked briefly at my fully erect cock. “Traitor,” I said, and flopped my head back down.

I heard her return a few minutes later. If my traitorous cock had gone limp at all while she was gone, it more than returned to fully erect when she came in. Dressed neck to toe in a white cyre’ catsuit, she looked the picture of kinky sex. White leather spike heeled boots adorned her feet, and white latex gloves adorned her hands. Her nipples stood erect through cutouts designed to show them off, and the lips of her pussy showed through the cutout between her legs. I was a bit dumbstruck, and simply stared.



“My, you look good enough to eat. No, don’t say anything, just relax and enjoy. In fact, I don’t want to here a word from you.” She leaned over and took off my glasses, then reached under the bed at the side, and when I saw what she pulled out I started to buck frantically to get away. The strap around my balls and the tightened scarves at my ankles abruptly reminded me of my predicament, just in case I had forgotten. Knowing full well my helplessness, Tara took the black leather hood she had pulled out and wiggled it over my head, cinching it tight behind my head and under my chin. The hood had cutouts for eyes and mouth, but the nose was so firm against my own I couldn’t breath that way. When I made the mistake of opening my mouth to protest she promptly filled it with a large pacifier shaped gag, which velcroed in place. The inside of the gag was big enough that I couldn’t move my tongue, but was perforated at the front so that I could breathe. I tried to express my desperation and uneasiness with what she had just done, but managed only to get out some incomprehensible grunts. Then she undid the cock strap.



“That’s better. Now, before we begin, let’s set a few ground rules. One – I do to you what I want, when I want, and you accept, willingly or not. Hmm. Guess that about covers it.” With that she moved back down to my now red prick and took it into her hands. She wrapped her left hand around the shaft and began to fondle my balls with her right as she stroked up and down. She must have felt me about to explode because she stopped and gripped my dick so tight that I couldn’t cum. “Something’s wrong here. I know!” She waited a few seconds to make sure I was relaxed enough so that I wouldn’t cum, then dropped my cock and jumped of the bed and went back into the hallway, out of my sight. When she returned I saw that she carried a small spray can, a cup, a small bottle, and a large towel. She put the can, the cup and something else down on the ground at the foot of the bed and started wedging the towel under my legs from ankles to hips. “Cream can get so messy, you know.” Cream? As in whipped cream? This was definitely getting different. I was starting to hyperventilate, and had to concentrate to calm my breathing. Visions of her suddenly pulling out an icepick and perforating my chest danced through my head.



She leaned off the edge of the bed and I heard the spray can. When she came back up her hand was filled with a large mound of foamy cream, which she proceeded to rub all over my cock and through my pubic hair. By the time she was finished the cool cream covered me from hips to knees. “Ready for the big surprise?”



What next? Chocolate syrup and a cherry?







Tara leaned back off the bed and came back up with a ten-pack of razors. My eyes must have bugged out in surprise because when she looked up she started to laugh. “Always did hate those pesky hairs getting in the way. Don’t move; I don’t want to cut you. Considering how much blood you have flowing down there, you would probably bleed out in thirty seconds or so.” With that, she proceeded to shave my lower body clean. When she was done my body stung from the effects of the razors, but I was hairless. She went into the bathroom and came back with a washcloth and cleaned me up, then picked up the small bottle and poured oil into her hand. “This should help things from rubbing raw now that all that hair is gone.” If I thought I was hard before, I now had a piece of steel growing from my groin as her hands made quick work of making me slick and slippery. She removed the towel and climbed on the bed again, straddling me.



“Guess I owe you a good fuck now.” I could still protest. I wasn’t going to be forced into adultery without putting up a fight, academic as it may have been, and violently shook my head ‘no’.



“Oh? Consider yourself pretty well fucked already, don’t you?” She smiled enough at her joke that I didn’t have to respond.



“Tell you what,” she said, as she reached over my head and grabbed something, which she pushed into the outside of the pacifier gag. “I’m in need of a model for some pieces I am working on. I’ll give you one hell of a blow job right now, and in exchange you give me seven more of your Wednesdays to do with you as I wish. No harm will come to you, your wife will never know anything more than she knows now. You’ll get to experience some great sex. And if you’re really good, I’ll give you your wedding ring back.” With that, she lifted up my ring in front of my face. She must have taken it when I took it off for my shower! “Or – you could get up right now and leave. Which is it?”



Now, I think that if I had ever found myself in this position when I was younger and not married, I might have looked at things differently. But as far as I was concerned, at that very moment, I was trapped by some psycho out of some fantastic nightmare. The constant teasing and happy talk on her part was pushing me over the edge.



I was going to be as stubborn as a mule, despite the obviousness of my predicament. I shook my head ‘no’ again, and let out a few pleading grunts. She looked at me as if waiting for me to do something else. As if I was physically able. “You don’t seem to be leaving, so I’ll take that as a ‘yes – I will stay’. Good. Now, I have a special kind of blow job in mind for you, and I am willing to bet your freedom on it. If you can cum without passing out, I’ll let you go. If not, well, I’ll take that as an acceptance on your part to help me out with my special project. Grunt once if you think you can handle those parameters.”



I grunted once. In reality, though, I knew there was no chance for me. There never had been, not since I agreed to the racquetball game.



“Alan, see how easy things are when you cooperate? Of course, I will need a little help. There is no telling how accomplished you may be at not passing out from an orgasm.”



Who ever heard of somebody actually passing out from an orgasm?



“Better hold your breathe.” She reached behind the pillows and turned something and suddenly there was something flowing in through the gag. I closed my mouth tight and pressed my tongue over the perforations to try to keep the gas out. I didn’t remember her saying anything about gassing me.



“Alan, I’ve always prided myself on my sexual abilities. Let’s see if I still have what it takes.” Her hands once again enveloped my oil covered cock. I closed my eyes and concentrated on cuming before the gas knocked me out. One of Tara’s hands started to massage my ass and balls as the other pumped up and down my shaft, teasing and tickling my manhood like her life depended on it.







That’s when I realized the deviousness of the whole situation. The rush of blood in my body due to the handjob would use oxygen faster and force me to breathe, while holding my breathe actually prolonged the onset of the orgasm. My head started to spin as my tongue weakened. The gas and the approaching orgasm had there effect. My breathing got heavier, forcing more of the unknown gas into my lungs, and the room seemed to spin around me. My body bucked as I came, and Tara directed the tip off my cock towards my face. She deftly continued stroking with one hand while she picked up the small cup with her other.



Cum erupted from my cock in the most intense orgasm I had had in months. One hand stroked my now twitching cock while her other held steady to catch shot after shot of my ejaculate. Seconds later the gas had it’s intended effect and I faded from consciousness. Just before I passed out, I thought I heard her say, “Aw, too bad” in that slight English accent.



* * * * * * * * * *







In my mind I saw myself, an observer in my own life. I saw my wife as she was when we first met; plain yet attractive, and how she changed through the years of our relationship. Our wedding day, the two years since, the changes in her and the changes in me. I had changed, too.



Things had slowed for us, become routine. Sex happened once or twice a month if our schedules meshed perfectly. Nights of passion were interspersed with art shows, odd jobs, racquetball games, and her choir practice. In fact, we hardly saw each other during most evenings; I played racquetball Monday and Thursday and had a regular art opening on Tuesdays, and she had choir on Wednesdays. Weekends were spent visiting relatives, doing housework, or simply recovering from the week. It was one particular art show that stood out in my head, and the racquetball game the following night that put me where I was now.







I met Tara Worthington at one of those art openings. I was there to write a review and hopefully get some insight into the artist, she was there as the artist. She was attractive by all accounts. Long curly black hair framed a perfect face with full lips and blue eyes; she was short next to me, her firm five-four frame dwarfed by my lanky six-four.



But while I found her attractive, I was not the type of guy that gets into the panties of every woman he meets. Heck, I’m not the type that even *tries* to get into the panties of every woman he meets. Instead, I was the stable type. Tried and true. Faithful to the end, if only given the chance.



Tara and I got to talking about things, such as her sculptures (mostly wrought iron and mannequin parts), my racquetball, and the world in general. Finally, we decided to take the interview a little further, and play a game the next night. I thought it would give me a chance to get to know the artist better, and that always makes for a better article. I wasn’t sure what she had in mind then, but If I knew then what was to be the result of the game, I probably would have given up the sport.



My mind drifted towards more recent memories, of a day and time close at hand. I felt myself sitting on our couch, watching TV during a rainstorm. If you could call it watching. Mostly I just sat there, remote control in hand, and flipped through the channels. On rainy days like this, that was all there was to do. That, or read the porn on the internet. I had collected over three thousand sex stories, and the number grew daily. Masturbation was one of the few outlets I had anymore, and the drop in my marital sex life drew me there often. Too often. So channel flipping became my new baseline alternative.



My wife came in to remind me to pick up lottery tickets on the way to my game that night. She was always playing the lottery. She said we would hit the big one some day – the Super Seven – and we could both retire. Retired at thirty, to do what ever we wanted, when we wanted, with no ties to anybody. Only in my dreams. She put on her coat over the suitably frumpy outfit she wore, kissed my forehead goodbye, and walked out the door to the garage. She loved me, and I her, but whereas I felt I hadn’t changed much physically in the eight years since we’d met, she had put on weight. That, when combined with career problems and extracurricular lives, had killed our sex life and was stagnating our marriage. She wasn’t happy with the way she looked, and when she wasn’t happy, I wasn’t happy.



Any of you in a long term relationship know what I am talking about.



Soon after she left, I went upstairs and changed into shorts and T-shirt for that night’s game. Tara Worthington would either be easy kill or impossible to beat; I couldn’t seem to find a player in the middle. Not that it made much difference. Just to see her in shorts would be enough to keep my masturbation fantasies going for weeks.



All this began to fade from my mind as the drug-fog lifted from my mind.







My eyes fluttered open once or twice, and tried to adjust to the bright light which surrounded me. As I awoke, I took mental stock of everything I could feel or sense. Arms straight out, fingers spread apart and held by some force. Body horizontal, head restrained by a strap over the forehead and another under the chin but over the neck. Another strap just above the knees, and another over the ankles. I flexed muscles or twitched limbs to gain information. If there was any chance of me escaping from where I was, I would need as much information concerning my situation and location as possible.



“Wakey, wakey, Alan. Glad to have you back.”



It washer, Tara Worthingtom.



I tried to reply, but found that my mouth had been gagged with a dental dam. “Alan, I am so happy! Everything worked out just as I had planned. You have just become part of my latest art project. Tonight was only the first part, of course, and you’ve passed with flying colors. I realize that you’ll have to get back to your darling wife soon, so I’ll make this quick.”



I caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye. She was still in the white catsuit, gloves, and boots, but now had a white lab technicians jacket over top.



“You will follow my directions for the next six Wednesday nights, and will follow all my orders. If you don’t,” she said, as she made a motion out of my view, “you’ll experience a little discomfort.” I saw her press a button on what looked to be a remote control, and a searing pain went through my cock and balls, centered at the base. I screamed into the gag, and tears fell from my eyes. It felt like a red hot poker had been shoved down inside my penis and swirled around for effect. It lasted for only a moment, but that was two moments too long.



“That was a low level. Imagine what could be done at a higher level. Disobey me, Alan, and you won’t have to imagine. I’m very serious when it comes to my art.” She removed the gag and head straps, and I immediately looked down at my cock. I saw nothing that wasn’t there normally. Still missing was my pubic hair, and that was a little odd to me. I couldn’t remember the last time there were no shrubs around the tree.



“What did you do to me? Why are you doing this to me? Why?” I blurted out, unable to control myself.



“Well Alan. I can call you Alan, can’t I? I know that I was a little forward, calling you by your first name all this time, but I thought that under the circumstances, we were close enough that I could call you ‘Alan’. Well, I did a little research into your life. Quite a fascination you have with the internet. Evidently you have saved over 3000 sex stories from the web. I, too, get a lot of my ideas from the internet. Female dominance, bondage, all the fun stuff. The predominant theme which also runs through those stories you saved. Which is why, when I was searching for a suitable subject, your name popped up. I simply tagged a few stories on a site I use, and watched to see who took the bait.”



She paused for effect. “As the saying goes, ‘be careful what you wish for, even if it’s in your dreams. You may get it.’ Well Alan, you’re gonna get it.” She got up and started to untie my legs.



I noticed for the first time the shape and color of the room. All white, circular, and almost antiseptic in nature. A large electronic device shaped like a mixing board, hooked to a computer and a rack of components. A distinctive smell made of a mix of alcohol and cooked rubber.



“Why?”



“You are an experiment, Alan. A work of art in progress. A piece of Female Domination art.”



Just my luck, to meet a ‘Fatal Attraction’ psycho. My head started to spin again from her revelation.



“Before I let you up, I want to warn you that to try to harm me would be very stupid and even more painful. You would live out your days wishing for death, the pain would be so great. All I ask for is a few evenings of your time. After that, any involvement I have in your life will be at your discretion. And I promise you that your wife will be as ignorant of our get-togethers when we are done as she is now. Unless you tell her, that is.”



I started to get up, but by fingers were still tied down. “Do you mind?”



“As I said, don’t do anything foolish.” She pressed another button on the remote control, and my hands were suddenly free. I tried to get up, but my head spun, and as soon as I moved any of my muscles, my entire body ached like I had a bad sunburn. I decided to lie down for a few more minutes.



“The pain you feel is part of my project. I’ve laced your body with a crystal neurotransmitter, just under the surface of the skin. It covers nearly your entire body, a little less on your scalp, but it isn’t easy working around all that hair. Now you know why I shaved you. The crystals are not noticeable but they are permanent; the skin sensitivity you feel is from their implantation, and will pass in a day or two. It’s sort of an invisible tattoo.



“By themselves the crystals do nothing. However, they are linked by means of your own nerve synapses, creating a receiving net which covers your entire body. They are attuned to a set of oscillating high frequencies to this remote. When connected to another set of liqui-crystals, they will transmit electrical signals directly to nerve centers, allowing you to experience sensations through external media. What this means to you, my little confused friend, is that I can, with the help of my other toys, make you feel the rush of water, or the touch of a rose, or the pain of fire. This is all part of one of my artistic experiments, and you were lucky enough to be chosen. Don’t you feel proud?”



I tried again to get up, and it didn’t work. “Excuse me for being a little dense, but I was recently drugged. What the HELL is going on?”



She walked over to a small table and picked up a tube of some sort of gel, squeezed some into her hand, and rubbed it over my chest. She returned to the table and picked up two small objects, about the size of bean bags, and came back to me. “Do you like breasts, Alan? You know, tits? Something nice to suck on, a female erogenous zone, a sex object? Well, tell me what you think about these.” She first pushed one onto my chest (which I noticed was shaved clean), centering my nipple into a small indentation on the back of the small falsey, then did the other. They were small and flesh colored, and would have been less than a half handful. Wiping what was left of the goop off her hand, she picked up the remote, and pressed a number of buttons.



The remote hummed for a second, then let out a beep. A wave of tingling swept across my chest, and before my eyes the fake breasts became part of my chest. “Hey! Wait a minute! What do you think you’re doing?” She just smiled, and pressed a few more buttons on the remote. I got up and, still stumbling, tried to reach Tara. The control hummed, then beeped again. My new chest expanded greatly, now to a c-cup, standing high and firm. The weight threw me off balance, and I fell to the carpeting. Tara walked over to me, and smiled at my dilemma.



“My prosthetics are composed of a number of different crystals, which can simulate the feel of nearly any material, including skin. Once activated, the prosthetics integrate themselves with the crystal neuro-network. By exchanging moisture from the surrounding air and chemicals from the dead skin on which it lies, it can expand or contract as required. In effect, I can sculpt your body into anything I want, as long as it is skin tight. Like give you the kind of tits you always wanted in a girl.”



“Please don’t do this to me…”



“Oh Alan, so predictable. I’m not doing this on a permanent basis to you. The way this works will be simple. I’ve given you a small ring of extra skin around the base of your genitals. That was what caused you the pain. Follow my directions, and in a few weeks I’ll take it off. Try to remove it yourself, or to have anybody else remove it, and the results will be painful and permanent. So calm down, please.”

“What is it you want?” I got off the floor, trying to arch my back to support my new chest, and succeeded only in making my new breasts jut straight out like silicon monsters. I felt like a stripper with a new boob job. The whole situation was completely unnerving.



“That’s better. On Wednesdays, when you return home from work, you will find a box at your house. As soon as your wife leaves for her evening out, you will follow the directions in the box, and dress in the items you’ll find within. You will activate the remote and attach the prosthetics, and dress in the clothes provided. The remote will be timed so that if you do not begin the operation by six-thirty, the pain will begin, and will progress until you are incapacitated. Any time after nine-thirty you may enter your code, and the prosthetics will deactivate and come off. Very simple, actually. One night a week for a few weeks, and you get to experience what most men would die for. Do we have an agreement?”



“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter, do I?” She shook her head no, smiling all the while. “Then would you mind taking these off, so I may leave, and get back to the real world?”



“Why no, no problem. One other thing” she said. I groaned. “We can balloon nerve areas and concentrate them to points, so effects are magnified.” She reached over and began caressing my new left breast. Sensations akin to a coming orgasms fogged my mind, and I saw the nipple become hard and erect. She smiled again, and stopped. “Thought you might like to know. By planning things carefully, I can enhance your most sensitive areas, or turn them off, or even give you all new ones. Isn’t this going to be fun?” She tapped a number code into the remote and hit a red button. The remote hummed for a second and beeped. My new breasts shrank and with an audible sucking sound came off in Tara’s hands. She put them on a table.



“One other small rule.”



“Does this rule making ever end?”



She shot me a dirty look. “I don’t want you to masturbate, at all. Sex with your wife is okay, but none by yourself. Your little device will let me know if you falter.” Oh wonderful, I thought. I can’t go two days without jacking off, let alone a week at a shot.



Tara handed me my clothes and, without saying a word, rushed me to the stairs. I passed a small hanging clock on the wall and realized why. Almost time for the wife to come home. I pulled on the shorts and rushed down two flights of stairs Her little lab had been in the attic. As she opened the front door she gave me a little kiss. “I like a nice smooth body to work with, so don’t forget to shave your body clean. If you do it at least every other day, it isn’t so bad. Let it go for a week, and the razor burn will keep you from wearing jeans for days. Same time, next week. I’ll be looking forward to our next…game.” She waved ‘bye’ in a very cordial manner.







I climbed into the car, and started rifling through the rest of my clothes looking for the car keys. Not only did I find them, but my wedding ring and my wallet also. I guess Tara would need to keep my ring for blackmail purposes when, in reality, she had commandeered my body instead. I started the car and rushed home, trying to dress on the way. Wednesday nights were not going to be boring for a while.



* * * * * * * * * *



Monday, May 13th



I haven’t been able to concentrate well since last Wednesday. My wife noticed my freshly shaven body this morning and commented on it; I made up some silly and stupid reason about how read that it could help with my racquetball game. At dinner tonight she announced that she had finally decided to get in shape, and that aerobics class started tonight at the community center. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. While I was happy for her and for her commitment, it would mean even less time for us.



We now see each other only on weekends, in bed, and at dinner. Weeknight television together is a thing of the past. Our sex life seems to be suffering even more. The events of last week are starting to fade, though I have been sure to shave my body as I was told.



* * * * * * * * * *



Wednesday, May 15th – The first night



I sat in front of my computer and tapped away. Why hadn’t I thought of doing this earlier?



+++ Welcome to The Baum-Dietrich Technologies Interconnect Program +++



+++ Please enter your passcode +++



I started my Creeper program. It was great for breaking into pornography sites if I didn’t want to spend cash for a password.



***initiate password bypass function ***



+++ Passcode accepted +++



+++ Department? +++



research



+++ Baum-Dietrich Technologies Research and Developement Project Database +++



+++ Stockholder Press Release Information +++



search keywords neurotransmitter/neuro/Worthington



+++ Seventeen results. Press here for listing +++



+++ Information to follow +++



+++ Silkskin – a crystal based neuro-enhancing cloth, akin to the popular ‘cire” fabric only having a great deal of flexibility. Developed by Baum-Dietrich Technologies by and for the virtual reality department, silkskin magnifies the effect of any outside physical stimulation directly to the skin below. Experiments have shown that those wearing silkskin are easily distracted, as the material keeps their entire body extremely sensitive.



find next



+++ VRcloth – a version of silkskin connected directly to a persons neuro-pathways



find next



+++ VRprosthetics – nerve connected prosthetics, consisting of an outer layer which is nearly identical to skin in texture and color; a liquid core which, under proper frequencies, could: harden, enlarge, shrink, soften, move in a particular direction or set of directions, and transmit sensations from the outer layer to the inner layer; and an inner layer, which transmits sensations to nuero-receptors implanted in the skin and connected to the hosts own nerves.



find next



+++ Personell data: Worthington, Tara J: President and CEO



Baum-Dietrich Technologies.



[ set Worthington.gif ] Education : BS in chemistry, W3oq4it7pq38ohf48o….



*** Security Program detected. File transfer interupted.



Abort initiated***



+++ End file transfer +++



+++ Connection closed +++







The small amount of information that I was able to gleam from the company’s public relations department confirmed most of what I had already been told. It didn’t mention, however, that the president was claiming to be a researcher that was subjecting unwilling persons to her own personal experiments. Most of it was technobabble, but at least it supported what Tara had said to me last week. It didn’t settle my queasy stomach any.



I stared at the screen of my computer, hoping that things would all of a sudden change and my life would return to normal. But it was Wednesday, a day that had caused no small amount of problems in my digestive system at that point. For the past week I had tried to live my life normally, but I was far from being in a normal situation. Last Wednesday, when I had gotten home from my evening of “racquetball”, I had a difficult time concealing what had happened to me. I don’t know if my wife suspected something or not, but the paranoia running rampant in my head made it seem that she was constantly touching, stroking, prodding, tickling, or just being all too affectionate for my current situation. She soon realized that I wasn’t in the mood, and, after telling me about her day at work, what happened at church, and that we didn’t win the lottery (again), We took our places in our king sized bed and soon fell asleep. Before I knew it we were shutting off the alarm and getting up to the morning sun.



The week had passed quickly. My wife made the occasional overture for sex, but I couldn’t do it. Guilt for what had happened already, and what I thought was going to happen, killed my mood completely.



All too soon it was Wednesday again. I had almost forgotten the whole thing, dismissing it as a dream induced by reading too many fantasies, except for the fact that I found my self keeping my body shaved. This morning I found the shoebox-sized package on the front porch, next to the morning paper. I quickly picked it up, and once back inside the house, stuffed it under the family room couch. I thought it wasn’t supposed to arrive until the afternoon.



As I walked back to the kitchen, I was filled with a sense of apprehension as to what I was going to do. Well, almost all of me. My cock was rock solid in erotic anticipation at what could be in the box. I was fairly familiar with my body and it’s reactions to certain situations, and I knew full well that there is a reason cocks have ‘heads’. It’s because they think only for themselves. I did my best to conceal the confusion between my brain and the erection in my pants while I ate my breakfast. The morning preparations for work went quickly and I soon I kissed my wife goodbye when she left for work.



Once I was sure that her car had left the driveway, I fished out the box and ran upstairs. I shut the bedroom door like a teenager with his first porn magazine and ripped open the package. Inside was a remote control about the size of my CD player’s with a tag attached, an unmarked toothpaste tube, and a black outfit. I pulled the outfit completely out of the box and laid it out on the bed.



It was, in fact, a jumpsuit, and while it looked a little small for me, I knew it would fit the way Tara wanted it to. It was made of an almost white translucent material, a cross between latex and spandex in texture and strechability, and was designed to cover me from my ankles to an open faced hood. I examined it a bit more closely, and discovered it was not uniform in thickness. Heavier, thick sections were located in the chest, ass, and hood. There where half-inch holes where my ears would be and a small glove-pouch in the crotch area, in addition to a large slit up the back. It also had no way of fastening it; I assumed that I would climb in through the opening in the back, and that once it was over my head and arms it would keep itself in place. I carefully rolled it up and put it and it’s companions back in the box. At the foot of our bed was a heavy locking cedar chest; a friend of mine had made it for us as a wedding present. The bottom face of the chest was actually a drawer with a concealed lock, and I used to hide my few items of material porn there. If you think that when you get married, you will have no secrets from your wife, wait until she tries to throw away all that hard earned porn you have collected over the years. Sure, women can have their bodice-ripper romance novels, but unless she enjoys porn too, it’s a no-no.



I put the box in the drawer and locked it. The small key went back on my keychain, and off to work I went. In some bizarre way, I was looking forward to this evening. I could hardly surpress my excitement.



When I got home that afternoon, my wife was already there and cooking dinner. The meal went quickly, as it often does on Wednesdays, and we chatted about the day’s events. She could tell my mind wasn’t on the conversation though, and got ready to leave for her class. I kissed her good-bye, and again watched as her car pulled out of the driveway. Kinky fantasies began to flit through my head, and I was hard by the time I got upstairs. I stripped quickly, and unlocked the drawer to remove my costume. It seemed cooler; almost oily to the touch. I got out the controller and the tube. The tag on the controller read:



“Start at 6:30. Head to ankles in the jelly,



put on the suit, enter 1637794 [ enter ]



Leave the contoller home.



Be at 730 Sycamore at 7:15, lower door.



Don’t be late.”







I opened up the tube, punctured the sterile seal, and squeezed a generous portion of the pinkish jelly inside into my hands, then proceeded to smooth it over my body. It was cool but warmed up quickly, and had no smell. Wiping my hands on my discarded jeans, I started to put on the jumpsuit. Left leg, straighten, right leg, straighten, then maneuver the arms and head into position. The material was stretchy and flexible enough that squeezing in wasn’t too difficult, but my hard-on was definitely a hindrance. I grabbed the glove-pouch and pulled it out so that I could maneuver my cock in, and it fit snug, exposing only the glans.



It was almost as if whoever designed this thought the wearer would have an erection when they put it on. No surprise there.



It was definitely more comfortable that way. I slid my hands down the arms into the gloves, making sure the fingers weren’t twisted, then pulled the hood up and over my head. It was a little tight, but finally made it. Next came the bathroom.



I wiped off the extra jelly with a towel, and stood in front of the mirror, admiring the skin tight costume. The face cutout exposed me from lips to eyebrows, my hard-on stood out proud before me, and my feet were bare. Nearly my entire body was covered in black. Even the hole that I had gotten in through wasn’t noticeable; the slit closing over itself once the hood was on. I got the controller and returned to the bathroom because I wanted to see what happened when I entered the code. After pressing the buttons as instructed, I heard the controller hum for about thirty seconds, and then let out a BEEP. It seemed very loud in the relative quiet of my bedroom.



If I thought the suit was skintight before, I was wrong. Almost the entire thing shrank, except for additions to my pectoral and anal area. My somewhat athletic body was even more male; it looked like I spent hours lifting weights every day. The biggest change, though, was in my pubic area. My suit covered shaft and balls were held in what was now a stiff and hardened case, holding my prick straight out from my body like a dildo on a latex suit, except the now purpling head was real. It felt like somebody’s hand had a firm grip on my cock and balls. Firm, but not uncomfortable. I reached down to touch it, but discovered that not only was the shaft rock hard, but it didn’t I could no longer feel anything. Except for the head, my dick was nothing more than a numb appendage.



My fantasies vanished and reality hit me in the face like a brick. I was trapped in some nut’s experiment, and couldn’t get out. Frantically I tapped the code into the controller, hoping to be released. I heard the hum and BEEP, but instead of the relief I wanted, a sharp searing pain around the base of my cock doubled me over and once again I felt the molten lava burn thoughts out of my genitals and my head. When I recovered, I looked up and saw the bedroom clock reflected in the mirror. Evidently, Tara’s original instruction of ‘start by six thirty’ and her new one of ‘be there by seven fifteen’ had a third one attached. Fool with the controller and pay for it. I was almost tempted to smash the controller into the wall, but thought better of it. It got locked back up in the drawer.



I grabbed a pair of gym sweats and pulled them on and over my erection, which stood out like a tentpole, fished my car keys out my jeans, and headed out. I had a very difficult time not stopping to masturbate, but the lack of sensation helped with that. The erection made driving very difficult.



* * * * * * * * * *



My car screeched to a stop outside the house on Sycamore St. I really needed to get those brakes worked on. It was a bit old, but served my limited purposes well.



The address was close to where Tara lived, maybe a block or two over, and I assumed that it must belong to one of her friends. The house was a large brownstone, one of a string of seven on the street. It was a nice neighborhood, probably inhabited by yuppie wannabes, but I don’t think they would have liked what they saw getting out of my car. My black clad body, with erect prick tenting my sweat pants, moved quickly from the car to the ornate oak and glass street level door. I knocked and the door swung open, and as I stepped in I noticed three Greek letters imbedded in the leaded glass window.



My bare feet stepped onto a thick, plush carpet, a dark blue in color. I stood in a foyer, about ten foot square, with dark paneling on the walls and three other doors, one to either side and one in front. A yellow light filtered through the leaded glass window in that far door; it too had the three Greek letters on it, only in gold leaf. A beta, an alpha, and a delta, if I remembered my college days right. BAD? A sick joke; expensive, but sick. Baum And Dietrich, maybe? I couldn’t be sure. I closed the street door and advanced to the one with the light behind it, and knocked.



“Come in, Alan. You’re early.” The door swung open to reveal a large room that must have taken up the entire basement of the house, Dark paneled walls supported a ten foot high ceiling. My feet padded quietly into the room, which was also carpeted, and I found myself in what looked to be a weight room, only I didn’t recognize any of the equipment. Tara stood on the other side, disassembling a device made of white pipes and straps.



She was dressed in white head to toe; a snug leather dress with a high collar and a hem down at the knees, white stockings, and white wrist length gloves. Even though the dress was not very revealing, it was snug enough to accentuate all her curves, and would have made me go hard if I had had the problem of being limp. She wore no shoes, probably so she wouldn’t have to worry about the carpet. As I approached, she stopped what she was working on and looked up.



“You can take off the sweats. I’ll be with you in a moment.” She went back to work on the construction while I shucked the pants. After a minute, she spoke again. “Come here. I need you to move this box into the lift.” I walked over, my dick bobbing up and down obscenely in front of me, and picked up the box. It was full of bent rods about a foot long, and a number of nylon straps.



“You’re awfully quiet today. No, ‘hello, Tara, how have you been’?” She was being very conversational, which I thought was amusing due to our current state of dress.



“Sorry. Hello, Tara, How have you been?”



“Good. I can’t lie. I have been very worked up about tonight. I thought you would be, too, but you sound a bit reserved. Have you given up hope of getting out of your situation, or have you resigned yourself to enjoy what you have only read and fantasized about? Either way, tonight should be exciting. Come along.” She walked to a section of the wall and pressed on a section of the paneling. A five foot section of the wall recessed and slid to the side, revealing an old style gated elevator. Her English term of ‘lift’ came back into my mind, and I wondered (for no real reason) if she was American.



“You look very nice tonight.” I said, trying to ease my situation. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what’s going to happen to me tonight, would you?” We got on the elevator, and she locked the gate in place. It started to rise.



“Thank you. If I told you what was going to happen, then it wouldn’t be a suprise, would it?” She laughed a little. “Don’t worry. Nothing *bad* will happen to you tonight. I’m giving a little little art show, and I wanted my favorite critic to attend. I told you that already, didn’t I?”



My mind started to read things into her words. Bad. BAD? Art show? The elevator stopped, and she opened the gate and the outer door. The room it opened onto was at least twice the size of the basement; it must have cut across two of the houses, and reached across two floors. The whole room was painted white, with a white marble floor. A weak light shone from a few track lights in the ceiling, faintly illuminating sculptures and paintings around the room. We walked halfway around the room to a bent frame sculpture made from white tubing.



The main supports were two pyramids, which supported a crossbeam which ran through a circle at least nine feet in diameter. In side the circle was another circle, and within that one, another, the smallest being at least eight feet across. She motioned for me to put down the box, and when I did she started to fish though the rods.

I tried to get a little more information out of her. “You know, you’ve got a really strange place here. A private art gallery, elevators in a house, all the fun stuff.” She fitted two of the rods together, and snapped two straps at either end. “And what about those Greek letters? What do they mean? Did all of this come from your father?” She took out another rod and connected it to a star shaped device, and began strapping it to my left leg. I felt like like was getting fitted for a suit.



“My father left it to me, yes, but it was my great-grandmother that designed and built it. She had plenty of money, and did what she wanted. Other leg please. Thank you. Anyway, she belonged to an organization with a very strict charter and good benefits, and this was her way of returning the favors they showed her and her husband. It’s been in the family ever since. Come over here please.”



She pulled me, stiff- legged, over to the circles, and swiveled them so I could climb inside. Once inside, she slid in the two piece rod, and attached it to my shoulders and wrists, turning my upper body into a big ‘T’. “Must have been pretty good benefits, to have built a place like this. Is that what the BAD stood for?” She lifted my feet onto the frame and snapped the bars in place, then hooked the star device to the other leg bar, then to a third bar and my shoulder rod, making an effective rack to which I was already attached.



“Stands for, Alan, stands for.” She took another rod, this one having a small, finger sized dildo attached to the end. She covered it liberally in lubricant, and pressed it to my anus. “Open up.” It slid in easily through a hole in the rear of my suit that I hadn’t noticed before and pressed into my anus about half an inch before my muscles stopped it, and she adjusted it it and attached it to the rest of the rack, leaving it about a half inch in my ass.



“What the hell?” Try as I might, I couldn’t un-impale my self.



“I’ll explain more about that in a moment. You see, Beta Alpha Delta still exists. It is a Femina Sorority, and I’m putting on a little show for the local chapter. It’s pledge time, and we have some fine candidates. You won’t be working with them much, though.” She pulled a set of earphones out of the box, and wedged them in the little earslots in my hood. They plugged into a little jack on the frame, and suddenly her voice was amplified. “I’m going to give you the controls now, Alan. Try not to make a mess. See you in a little while.” She pressed a little device into each of my hands, then stood back and smiled. “Almost forgot.” She reached into the box again and pulled out something which she kept hidden at her side.



“A little kiss before I go?” She leaned in, and surprised me with a rather tonguey kiss, and at the same time reached down and grabbed the head of my aching dick. Suddenly, she pinched the glans between two fingernails, and when I yelped, she stuffed the ball of the gag into my mouth and locked it place. It must have been coated with something; it tasted sour and I noticed that my nervous stomach started to calm almost immediately. Again she stepped back, and grabbed the side of the inner sphere and pulled. It began to spin slowly around, giving me a view of the room, the Tara, then the room. On one of the passes, I saw her grab the next sphere and shove it in a different direction. The dildo at my ass began to hum, and I started to get dizzy. She spun the third one and my view began to shift all over the room. I rotated in three hundred sixty degrees on three different axis.



Her voice came through the headphones loud and clear. “The controls will let you start or stop rotation. I would let it spin, if I were you, unless you want that vibrator up your ass. It’s a gravity fed device. If it stays in any one orientation for more than twenty seconds, it will start to rise against the frame and into your rear end. It won’t go far, but if you’re not used to it, so I guess it could be a little uncomfortable. I don’t know; maybe your into that kind of thing. Talk to you later.” The noise of the room clicked off, and was replaced with music by Nine Inch Nails.



Whatever was on the ball gag was keeping me from throwing up. I felt the spheres slow down, and decided not to risk it any further penetration by the digit at my anal gate. I closed my eyes and clicked on the buttons, sending the device back into rotations. When presented with the question of disorientation or butt fuck by a piece of art, I decided to take the disorientation.



I don’t know how long I spun, but when I opened my eyes there was a different scene in the room. The lights were up, and I could see know that the room had more occupants than before. They were across the room looking at other sculptures. I noticed that depending on how I rotated the spheres, the wiring would cross and I could hear what was being said. That, or Tara was giving me the feeling that I was doing it. More likely, she was doing it on purpose.



“…sisters to this years art show…”



“…paintings and sculptures for bid…”



“…for preparation…” They were moving closer to me.



“…erotic satisfaction…” There were about two dozen of them, dressed in exotic costumes and all wearing masks of some sort. As they approached, I felt the rings slow again, and I pressed the buttons to keep it going. Only this time, I kept slowing down. Before they arrived, I got a good look at them. Seven were dressed in colored leather outfits; Tara in her white (only now she had on cowboy boots), one each in red, purple, and blue, one in green with yellow diamonds, another in black, and the last in zebra stripes. Each wore a veiled mask fitted to a hood which covered their face, with their hair pulled through a hole in the top of the hood pony style. Around them were at least a dozen women dressed in black leather bras and panties, with matching hoods. Only their hoods were full face, and wouldn’t allow speech. All were in stockings and heels of some sort. They were fantasies from one of my wet dreams.



The music kicked off just before they reached me. “This gentleman will be providing service for the next few weeks. As you can see, he has been prepared as stated in the program. You can also see that he is quite capable of a hearty erection, and,” the sphere rack stopped completely, and the vibrator rose into my ass, try as I might to keep it out, and stimulated my prostrate to a quick orgasm, “he can culminate his actions too.” One of the fully hooded women ran forward and caught the ejaculate in a clear cup while they all had a laugh at the joke. When I was finished and the dizziness stopped, I got a better look at them.



Tara stood next to the device, and retracted the vibrator from my ass. She was stunning in her white outfit, with her long black hair cascading from the top of the hood. There must have been a lot of fake hair in there, because I knew her hair wasn’t that long – it now almost reached her waist.



Second was one completely dressed in red; long curly brown hair framed the hooded and veiled face. She was nicely built, and her outfit was cut to show off cleavage. She stood in front of me in her high heels, and looked me up and down. I had the feeling that she was smiling, when she turned and walked away.



Third was dressed in a purple leather bodysuit, complete with purple high heeled boots. A thick brown braid trailed from her hood to her waist, laced at the bottom with purple leather straps. She was tall and stocky, like a basketball player, and probably stood six and a half feet in her heels. She paid little attention to me as she passed.



The next was dressed in a blue silk shirt and a matching leather skirt, with a long blue leather overcoat. Her topknot was made of long, straight black hair which reached midway down her back. Her body was more petite than the others, but was no less impressive. I felt a cold shiver run down my back as her mask turned to face me for just a moment.



In contrast to the solid colors I had seen so far, the next one was dressed in a combination of green leather and green and yellow diamond silk. The diamonds were large, and tickled some memory in my head, but I couldn’t place it. Her costume was a snug bodysuit of green silk, with green leather corset and calf high boots. The hood was also diamond covered, and actually had two holes through which the red hair was pulled through. Both were on top, but one each on either side of the centerline, giving her a twin ponytail look.



Next to last was the poster girl for Dominatrix Inc. Strategically placed sections of Spiked black leather covered what they had to while exposing much more. She wore spiked black leather gloves with a matching collar, and her blonde hair spilled from a hood that was also covered in studs. The boots were spike heeled, and rose almost all the way to her hips.



Last of the seven was dressed in zebra stripes, from the thigh high spike heeled boots to the short skirt, corset, and half cup bra, to the short jacket and hood. Dirty blonde hair cascaded down her back. This last one was bustier than the others, and when she stopped in front of me, she grabbed hold of my cock roughly and gave it a twist. I yelped into the ball gag more in surprise than pain and she let out a low laugh, turned, and walked away.



Once all of the main watchers were past, the group of women in full hoods surrounded me. Each wore a black leather bra and panties, and knee high black leather boots. Around each wrist was a thick leather bracelet, and around each neck was a studded collar. On their left butt cheek was a gold beta-alpha-delta. All were nearly identical dressed; the only differences were their hair topknots. They all stared at me, and if I thought I was hard before, then I was a rock now.



Tara spoke again. “See, girls, how your dress affects the normal male? The correct use of clothing can excite a man without any other stimuli. This one evidently has a passion for leather and heels. Most men do.” As they turned and walked away, Tara grabbed my erect cock. “Gotta go, big boy. Be back soon.” She adjusted something on the rack, and walked away. Again, the heavy sounds of Trent Reznor filled my ears. The vibrator buzzed and again pushed at my anus. I started pushing buttons, and the spheres began there rotation once again. I closed my eyes in an attempt to stop the dizziness this caused, and lost track of time.







The next thing I knew I was being disconnected from the sphere. My body ached, and my mind swam with dizziness and a self-induced trance I had entered to keep from being sick. Tara undid the ball gag, and I flexed my jaw to see if the muscles still worked. While she unhooked the rest of the bars, I looked around at the now dark hall. Most of the sculptures were gone or disassembled, and I wondered if they had also held occupants during the show. I hadn’t been in much of a position to notice at the time. The muscles in my arms and legs quivered with exhaustion.



“Mind telling me what went on here tonight? I mean, this was no one night stand with a little kinky sex thrown in. This was full blown crazy. Who were all these people? And what is all this leather crap, with the women and the heels and shit?” The more I talked, the more worked up I was getting, and I decided to quit before I lost my temper.



“Alan, Beta Alpha Delta, the Femina Sorority, is a semi-secret society designed to propagate the female agenda. It inducts college age females into an intense training program where they learn to dominate and control both men and weaker females. We originally did it through the use of sexual tension, and that is still the most fun and the easiest, but we have developed other ways. Tonight was part of the pledge program, and the women you saw were sisters and pledges. They will be involved in the training sessions for the next few weeks.” She finished packing the tubes and motioned for me to pick up the box. We headed for the elevator.



“What was the art show for? And the hoods? And where do I fit in?” Questions started to flood my mind, and I could hardly spit them out fast enough. We got into the elevator.



“You were suggested as a likely candidate for the training sessions, and after you were checked out it was decided you would help out this fall. The hoods and veils were for the protection of our sisters. If it ever became public knowledge who was in our society, they would be shunned and the whole thing would be undermined. The art show was to show you and a few other subjects to the sisters and the pledges.” The door opened and we got out into the basement.



“I am a subject for training sessions?”



“Yes, but you’ll learn more about that later. You know, Alan, you are taking this entire thing very well. Most of the men we do this to would have cracked or lashed out by now. Are you okay?” I could heard some concern in her voice.



I put down the box and turned to face her. “When this whole thing started last week, I didn’t know what to think, or what to believe. It all seems so far-fetched. Women in leather, secret societies, the whole thing. But I was pretty sure you weren’t going to hurt me, and at the moment you’ve got me by the short hairs. I touched the controller after the suit was set, and got the pain again. I won’t be doing that again. I think that as long as I know it is going to end, and that it won’t screw up my life, I can handle it.”



Like a snake her left hand fluidly grabbed my right wrist, her right hand grabbed my prick, and she swept me to the ground in a judo take down. Before I could move, she was straddling my thighs.



“If I do hurt you, it’s for you’re own good. Over the next few weeks you’ll learn a lot, and it’s best if you do what you are told. Most people have a submissive nature, and look to others for guidance. We are going to show you how to use that to your advantage. Understand?” I nodded. “Good. Then let’s get down to business. I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you will answer, out loud, in a complete sentence and in the affirmative. Understand?” I nodded again. Her hand came across my face in a loud slap that sounded worse than it was, but still stung. “Understand?”



Flip her over, I thought. Fight back. You aren’t the most muscular of men, but surely you could take on this woman and come out on the winning side.



But somewhere inside me, a piece of me split in two. Part of me was tried and true, stable and constant, perversions in the closet where they belonged. The new part was curious. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Well, at least maybe test the waters with a toe before saying it’s too cold for a swim. The new part won.



“Yes, I understand. I will answer all questions affirmatively and in full sentences.”



She grabbed my prick again, and slipped one hand around the base while her other grabbed loosely just above it. Her eyes never left mine as she slid the top hand up and off my dick, then quickly brought it up and underneath, followed with another stroke from base and off the tip. Left hand, then right, then left, each yanking my cock upward while trying to draw everything inside my loins into the air.



“I have a little reward to give you for being such a good and understanding man this evening. Alan, honey, you won’t cum until I tell you, will you?”



“I won’t cum until you tell me.”



Her actions sped up a little. “Do I feel good to you?”



“Yes, you feel very good to me.” Despite my orgasm earlier in the evening, I was already hard again.



She began to stroke faster, occasionally squeezing harder as her hand passed over my glans.



“If I asked you to dress up in kinky costumes, would you?” Faster, harder.



“Yes, I would wear kinky costumes if asked.” I could feel orgasm building again.



“Would you let me change you body, so that you would be more sexually appealing? I mean, as long as I changed it back?” Her muscles began clenching around my prick, drawing the cum upwards. I was starting to go numb, as I do before a really mind-blowing orgasm.



I gasped out a reply. “I would let…let you change my body…to be…be more sexually appealing.”



“If I told you I would teach you to satisfy and be satisfied, bring out your animalistic natures, send you to hell and back, would you agree to it?” I was starting to lose consciousness, and almost ready to explode.



“YES. I want you to teach me. Teach me to satisfy and be satisfied. Make me an animal. Send me to hell and back. OH. UNH.” She twisted off me and grabbed a small cup, as she had on that first night, and caught the results of my orgasm as my cock spurted forth its load of jism of the evening. I didn’t know why she did what she did, and I wasn’t about to ask. She had a very irritated look on her face.



“You didn’t wait until I told you to cum. Just for that, I don’t want you to engage in any sexual activity in which you cum, until I say so. If you go home and wifey is in the mood, the sex had better be one sided, in her favor. I am setting your reminder ring here to give you a level seven shock if you orgasm without my permission. You have to learn control. I’ll decide your further punishment at a later time. But first I think we should get you out of that suit and get you home. Your wife will be expecting you.”



* * * * * * * * * *







I pulled into my driveway, turned off the car, and just sat there for a minute, wondering what punishment Tara would subject me to, and when. Tara had gotten me out of the outfit and dressed in my sweats without saying another word to me. The first night was over, with six more for me to endure. I didn’t know if I could do it. These two Wednesday nights made me doubt myself – who was I really? What did I think I was doing? My whole life was becoming a house of cards, and I was shaking the table with the deceptions I had now allowed to become part of my life. I hope the cards wouldn’t fall.



I got out of my car and walked to the dark house. I must have beat my wife home. I let myself in and headed upstairs to shower off . It was when I got into our bedroom to strip off my sweats that I saw it. On top of the television in out bedroom was a ball gag harness and a DVD in a white box. In block lettering read the title, “The Art Critic and the Art”. Below it was a picture of an odd sculpture of a man in a gyroscopic appearing device.



I picked up the items and locked them in the chest drawer. I was pretty sure I knew what was on the DVD, but I wasn’t sure how felt about it. I certainly wasn’t happy that the whole thing had been recorded and left in my house.



* * * * * * * * * *







Wednesday, May 22nd – The second night







I sat in the front seat of my car, dressed in thin white pants, white t-shirt, and white sneakers. I was parked by a woman’s health club, waiting for my time to come up. When it did, I walked into the place, and was greeted by the receptionist. She was an attractive redhead, dressed in workout clothes.



“Yes, sir?”



“I’m here to see Gloria.” Just say what the note told you, no improvising.



“Just down that way, second door on your left.” She pointed.



“Thank you.” I walked down the hall, passing open rooms full of attractive, sweaty women, as they were led through aerobics and dance classes. I didn’t get an erection; I couldn’t. My cock was encased in a tube filled with tiny pointed nibs. Every time I even started to get erect, the pain was incredible. It was called a Khali’s ring or something, and I wasn’t too fond of it at all.



I found the door and knocked. A soft, feminine voice told me to enter. Upon entering I was greeted by the beautiful owner of the voice. She looked oriental; an athletic body with well proportioned and firm breasts was wrapped in a modest dress of blue satin. Long, straight black hair hung in a ponytail. Her face was pretty and serene. A light perfume hung in the air.

“You are Alan? Good. You are wearing the device? Better. If you are good, I will remove it when we are done. Follow me.” She turned and walked into another room. She was so overwhelming that I couldn’t even speak.



The room contained three tables covered with towels. On each table lay a naked and beautiful woman. Sexy doesn’t come close to describing them. The workouts to keep bodies in that shape must take all day. Pain in my genitals as my erection was quelled brought me back to reality quickly.



“I will show you the techniques once. If I have to show you a second time, I will be displeased. Do you understand? Good.” She had yet to wait for a response from me.



She got a robe and put it on over her dress. A small bottle taken from her pocket drizzled oil over the chest of the first woman. “You will give each of these women a massage. If they find it acceptable, you will be permitted to leave. Begin, here.”



I moved over and began rubbing and massaging the first woman’s breasts. I heard a loud THWACK a second before the pain shot through my thighs. Gloria had hit me with a split bamboo cane.



“Not like that, you idiot. Move your thumbs like this, you fingers like this. You’re here to give her a massage, not feel her up.”



That’s the way my evening went. I would begin to massage, she would hit me, then correct my technique. I started to sweat profusely because I never knew where the next blow would land. My thighs and calves ached, my arms stung, and my fingers were going numb. After the second blow I didn’t worry about pain in my genitals. I was so worked up about getting hit that the thought of these women as sex objects went right out the door, down the street, and into some forgotten alley.



Not to say the women didn’t try to get a rise out of me. In turn, they twisted this way and that, spread their legs to give me a show, and pursed or licked their lips. I became an automation, there just to give massages.



Not that that stopped them; they soon upped the ante, and ran their fingers up my thighs to caress my ass or massage my balls. As the evening wore on they made a game of it, and tried to see who was the most effective. They started double-teaming me, and by the time I reached the third woman, the first two were rubbing their oil covered bodies all over my legs or sticking their tongues in my ears, or any of a multitude of other things. I found that by totally concentrating on giving a massage, I could block out almost all thoughts of sex. Any thoughts that did make it to my libido were bitten back by the Khali’s teeth.



After nearly two hours, all three women agreed that I was a passable masseur. I had learned light and deep muscle techniques, along with pressure points on the face and feet. I could’ve probably gotten a job giving massages.







Gloria then blindfolded me and led me into another room. She moved me around, evidently into a specific position, with light hits of her cane. I felt her undo my pants and drop them to the floor. She stood behind me and undid the biting device.



“Now I shall show you one final massage.”



From behind she grasped my limp cock with one hand, and rubbed my balls with her other. It took a minute after all I had been through, but soon I had a strong erection. Her hands felt better than any I had ever experienced or thought I would experience, and soon I felt my orgasm rising, Gloria must have too. Her hand left my balls and removed my blindfold just before I came.



I stood in front of a large wall of glass. On the other side was a room full of attractive women, dressed in aerobics gear, all staring in my direction. The fact that I was being jerked off in front of a room full of women took me over the edge. My cock exploded in orgasm, and my knees buckled because of the intensity of the blood rush. Gloria milked my cum into a pan she had placed in front of me.



It was then I noticed a figure on the other side of the glass with her back to me, to whom all the other women were really paying attention. I must’ve been behind a one-way mirror, looking onto a class. At least I hoped it was a mirror. Hoped and prayed. Exhibitionism is not my cup of tea.



* * * * * * * * * *



Friday, May 24th







My wife had an exceptionally hard day today, and was very happy when I gave her a full body massage. I could tell that she wasn’t in the mood for sex, being too tired, and I wasn’t allowed to have sex anyway. Memories of the teeth kept my mind on what I was doing. It was nice just to touch her and to make her feel good. I think she really enjoyed it.



If the rest of my ‘learning’ sessions were going to be like this, I might just be able to survive. Hey, look at that. Now, not only am I deceiving my wife, I am getting good at deceiving myself.







* * * * * * * * * *



Thursday, May 30th







I sat on the couch and looked at the DVD case. The cover showed a woman in English riding clothes sitting in a saddle. The title read, “Horse play – the training of a mount”. I slipped the DVD out and into the player, undid the drawstring on my sweatpants, and relaxed on the couch. My wife wouldn’t be home for a few hours; she had to pick up some groceries, get gas for the car, and make the weekly contribution to the Old People’s State Assistance program, also known as the lottery. That would take her close to the mall, and she could never pass by without a quick stop in. I reached over and turned out the lights, and focused on the TV.



The screen flickered, then faded in on a row of stables. The camera was evidently fixed in position. Into the screen walks an attractive Egyptian looking woman with long brown hair, almost black. She is dressed in tight purple leather pants, purple leather riding boots, a white silk shirt, and a purple leather vest. She is tall and athletically built; from her location and clothing it is evident she is going for a ride.



She opens a stall and reaches inside, pulling on a pair of reigns. Whatever is on the other end doesn’t want to come out. She picks up a riding crop, raises it above her head, and it falls: once, twice, a third time, the only sound being that of the crop on flesh. The reigns go slack and a figure emerges from the stall.



It looks like a cross between a horse and a man. A man’s face and mouth are held in the bit and bridle, and a set of blinders keep his sight limited. His arms are strapped to his sides in a harness which also holds a saddle on his upper back. Long hair, made into a mane of sorts, runs between two leather horse ears projecting from the top of his head. From his ass projects a horse tail, it’s root held in his anus by more straps. A thick eight inch cock dangles limply between his legs, which are encased in black leather from his crotch down to their heels. Only these boots are missing the heels; they force him to stand on the balls of his feet, and they make little horseshoe prints when he walks on dirt. His discomfort is obvious.



She hits him again and speaks, but the only sound heard is the crop connecting with flesh. He squats as low as he can, and she climbs into the saddle. He adjusts himself to her weight, then she directs him out of the stables.



Change to another camera view, this time the area being viewed is a riding arena. The purple clad woman stands on a platform, cracking a drovers whip at the horse/man as he performs tricks; he side steps, canters, and even jumps over small barrels on cue. Any time he falters, he feels the lash.



Change to another camera, this one mounted on another rider following the purple clad woman. She is on the horse/man’s back saddle, and they are at a full gallop. In front of them is another man, a look of pure terror on his face as he is chased down. The rider twirls a weighted net over her head and releases in a perfect and practiced throw, and the running man tumbles to the ground, his body encased in the net. He is quickly surrounded by women dressed in black leather catsuits and boots who pick him up and carry him away. The horse man is covered in sweat, and crop marks can be seen across his ass. She turns him about, and they trot out of the cameras view.



Another view from inside the barn. Horse/man is lead into a small with a sign overhead that reads ‘Stud Service’, but he is evidently unaware. Inside, she takes off the bit and bridle and pulls a large feeding harness over his head. His jaws move the bag as he eats. She picks up a large beaker with her left hand and begins to massage his cock with her right. His eyes go wide, and he tries to escape her grasp, only to realize she has attached his body harness to a frame in order to hold him in place.



His already large prick grows in her hand as it becomes erect; eight inches, nine inches, finally ten inches long and as thick as a soda can. Her hand pumps away, and after a few minutes he begins to spurt huge globs of cum into the beaker, filling it nearly half-way. His knees buckle from the orgasm, but he is held up by the harness. She turns to a refrigerator in the stall and opens it, pours a small amount of another liquid into the beaker, then places it next to several other beakers. It is labeled with his name: Stud O’Neill. The screen fades to black.



I hit the ‘stop’ button, ejected the DVD, and returned it to the case. I thought back to last night; I still have marks on my ass, and sitting was a little uncomfortable. I got a few tissues and cleaned the pool of precum on my stomach. I wasn’t allowed to complete my masturbation, and didn’t even dare risking the consequences if I did. I went back upstairs and slipped the case and the crop that accompanied it back in the secret drawer with the other items already secured there.



Maybe a cold shower would take my mind of things and help undo my erection before my wife got home.



* * * * * * * * * *



Sunday, June 2nd



I really don’t see how people do the things they do in the stories I’ve read. Unlike many of the people in the erotic fiction (or non-fiction, if you would believe some of them), I am a nervous wreck. Every time a car drives by, or the phone rings, or I see a letter in the mail from an unknown address, my hearts starts going at a mile a minute.



I’m jumping at shadows. Who, out in the real world, knows what is happening to me? I get the feeling that I am not the first to be subjected to the scheming of Tara and her friends. It all has such a regular, practiced feel to it. That doesn’t make it one bit easier. The session last Wednesday was nothing like what I had experienced before, yet the very next day I risked electrical castration to watch the replay.



That part of me that was curious and wanted to see what would happen? Well, I am reminded now what happened to Pandora when curiosity got the better of her. Only, I really didn’t have much choice when it came to opening the box in the first place.



That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.



On a whim, I convinced my wife to go on a date with me. We spent the afternoon on a couple of old nags, riding the trails in the woods. I think she enjoyed the break from our normal routine.



* * * * * * * * * *



Wednesday, June 5th







I found this week’s package on the front seat of my car when I got out of work. Whoever was delivering these for Tara and her friends could get in anywhere, it seemed.



Big surprise there. What was I thinking? That they could develop this whole crystalneuro thingy, but not get into a four year old used Saturn?



I sat in the parking lot and ripped open the brown paper packages. Inside was a pair of green shorts, a green and yellow diamond patterned t-shirt, and a pair of green calf high socks. All were made of the same cool and oily feeling material that first night I was an art object. There was another tube of gel, instructions for the remote, and an invitation to a party for tonight. I stuffed the items into the glove compartment, and headed to the store to pick up a few things. From the look of the outfit, I thought I might be playing soccer.



* * * * * * * * * *



Dinner with my wife slipped by. Casual conversations about work, my fictional racquetball partner for the evening, and the possibilities of looking at houses this weekend. One part of my mind kept up the talking while the other tried to figure out what would happen tonight. Before I realized it my wife was kissed me goodbye and I was left to clean up the dinner dishes.



* * * * * * * * * *



The shirt and shorts were snug, and felt slimy with the coating of gel underneath. My feet felt like they were stuck in wet sneakers. I tapped in my code, and all became skin tight. I had begun doing morning exercises to relieve my sexual tension, and the shirt showed off the meager results. There was small pocket in the front of the shorts for my cock but not my balls, almost like a sheath. The shorts also showed off the fact that I shaved down there, and that I wasn’t wearing any underwear.



If you are wondering about that last statement, I can say with all honesty that the shorts had molded themselves to my body. Had there been any hair left, it would have bushed things out a little. As it was, it was easy to tell that my parents had me circumcised as a baby.



It was went to walk back into the bedroom when I noticed it. My feet had become hyper-sensitive; the carpet felt like steel wool trying to rub the calluses off my feet. I jumped to the bed and sat down, and realized that the shorts were having the same effect on the skin they covered. It was like having a sunburn without the pain, everything was so sensitive that it *almost* hurt. I pulled on a pair of sweats and my old sneakers, even though the sensations almost being too much.







Limping down the stairs was difficult; every step renewed the sensitivity. My body began to sweat heavily under the strain. I grabbed my wallet and keys from the stand by the door and headed out to the car, and I imagine that if any of the neighbors saw me, they got a good laugh. I must have looked like I was walking on eggs.



* * * * * * * * * *



The address for the party was at a comedy club. I hoped that it wasn’t a tie-and-jacket club, because I was dressed as the biggest dork you can imagine. I assume that I would be alright because the note had said nothing about additional clothing. I parked and grabbed my stuff, then headed for the club. I found that I could move quick but had to be ready for when I stopped, as the effects of the outfit would catch up after a second or too. I pulled out a ten for the cover charge, but the man at the door saw my clothing and just pointed to the stage door.







The entry led into the back of the club, where that night’s performers waited their turn. I saw my ‘date’ for the evening immediately, and things in my mind fell into place.



She was very attractive, as all the women connected with this organization had been so far. She was dressed in a green harlequin outfit decorated with yellow diamonds. Green ankle boots covered her feet, her hands were in yellow gloves, and a three point harlequin hood complete with bells on the ends on the points finished the outfit. A yellow mask covered the upper part of her face. Though the rest of the room was empty, I could clearly hear the noise of the crowd.



I may be slow, but my brain hasn’t stopped altogether. I now had a good idea of what was going to happen to me tonight, but the woman’s lightheaded manner didn’t do anything to allay my fears.







She smiled at me, and in a cheerful voice greeted me. “Whad’ya think? Too much? I always heard that comics were nothing more than common man’s jesters.”



“Um, I don’t know. I don’t go to this type of club. Maybe some of them will find it entertaining.” I gestured in the general vicinity of the crowd noise.



“I don’t care about them. It’s you I’m here to entertain.” She smiled. Pleasant as that smile was, I got a bad feeling about the whole thing.



“What would you like me to do?”



She looked around the room. It was filled with oddities as if somebody had been collecting things from garage sales for twenty years. Finally, she motioned to an old barbers chair in a corner. “Sit there.”



I did as I was told, first taking off my shoes and sweats. I was growing used to the overly sensitive nature of my clothing. Once I was seated, she skipped over to me, bells jingling, like a little kid. She leaned in front of me, grinning. My bad feelings grew even worse. She picked up my left arm and put it on the armrest, and flipped a strap over it, tying that arm down. “Why are you strapping me down?” A stupid question, considering the people I was dealing with, but I asked anyway.



“Used to be a dentist’s chair. These made sure they didn’t thrash during an operation.” She tied down my other arm. I pretty much let her, testing the bands once she was done. I could’ve overpowered her easily if I had wanted, but nothing really unpleasant had happened to me yet. At least nothing permanently scarring. “That was in the days before anesthetic.



You won’t have that problem.”



Sirens, bells, and whistles all went off in my head. “Let me up.” She strapped my feet down quickly, knowing I knew something was up.



“But you’d miss the show if you left.”



“I don’t care. Let me up now, please.”



“Don’t you like comedy?”



“It’s okay. If you want to go out into the club, we could watch a few of the comedians, but I’ve been drugged before and I don’t like it. It wasn’t part of the deal.”



“Deal? I don’t remember any deal. I was just asked to show you a good time, take you out and have a few laughs. And who said anything about drugs?”



“You did when you talked about the anesthesia.”



She laughed. “I meant you wouldn’t have to worry about thrashing about during an operation.”



“What operation?” my voice cracked.



“No, silly. The chair was originally made for minor operations. No operation for you, so relax a little. Enjoy.”



I felt a little relieved. “Then what are the straps for?”



“So you don’t leave during the show.” With that, she spun the chair around, then pulled back a curtain that had hid the wall behind the chair. I was given a balcony view of the stage where a comedian was just finishing his act. I felt her hand do something at my crotch, and when I looked down I saw a tube leading away from the tip of the built-in sheath.



She crouched down behind me and whispered in my ear, “This next one is one of my favorites. I hope you laugh at all his jokes.”



The next one out was a guy who did nothing but complain about the differences about men and women. He was okay, by my standards, but I’m not a big one on male bashing. My jester friend seemed to like him just fine. I could hear peals of laughter every time he made a joke about how stupid men can be. Halfway through his act she leaned in close again.



“You’re not laughing. Nobody comes to my club and doesn’t laugh.” She walked to where I could see her completely. “Some of the people you’ll meet may strike you or tease you sexually in order to control you. I was asked to teach you how to laugh at yourself because you didn’t know how to do that.” Again with that ‘teaching’ thing. My mind flitted back to the masseuse. She had let on that I was being taught’. This would take some serious thinking. “Instead of a crop or a whip or even my hand, I use this.” She held up a long stiff feather.



The alarm bells went off again, louder and stronger than before. I tried to pull loose from the chair, but couldn’t.



“That’s right. Even if you weren’t ticklish before, you are now.” The feather brushed up my ribs, wiggled in my armpit. I let loose with a howl of laughter. “Much better. I thought it was a good joke, too.”



The feather wiggled the soles of my feet after each of the comedian’s jokes about men, ripping guffaws from my mouth and tears from my eyes.



The next comic was one she had picked just for me. My laughs began to drown out the crowds in the normal seats. The jester alternated between my feet, my ribs, and my armpits, never letting any one area get desensitized. Tears streamed down my face, and I begged for mercy. I could feel my bladder about to explode. She never let up, and finally I lost control over my bladder. The tube hooked to my shorts took care of the mess I would have made, drawing off the results of my laughing fit.

After nearly an hour of this I was so exhausted that I could hardly move. She undid the straps holding me down, then peeled off the shirt, shoes, and finally the shorts. My mind was filled with the smell of my own body odor. The room must have reeked from it; I had sweated so much I probably lost a few pounds. At the rush of cool air, my cock sprang to life. The jester looked down at it.



“Oh yeah. I guess I’m supposed to give you some comic relief’.” I couldn’t have laughed if my life depended on it. She pushed me back into the chair into a reclining position, then swung a leg over me so that she was straddling my chest with her back to my face. Whatever she was doing, she was happy about it, and hummed a nonsensical tune while she worked. I felt something cup my balls, then something else grip my cock. She got off me and strapped my arms and legs down again while I looked at the contraption.



My genitals were encased in a large plastic tube, with four rods pressing along it lengthwise. Where the rods exited the bottom of the tube, they met and wrapped the base of my cock, then melded into a cup holding by balls. At the end of the tube, just past the head of my prick, was a ball about the size of a tennis ball, again, it was made of clear plastic.



The jester stood next to me with her hands on her hips. “Neat, huh? I actually thought this one up. All you have to do is fill the ball up, and you can leave.” The ball looked pretty big from where I was.



“How am I supposed to do that without touching myself?”



“I’ve hooked the rods onto the network of crystals covering your stomach area. If you tighten those muscles while shaking your body, it will give the rods the energy they need to get you off.”



I tried it. I bore down, tightening my abs, and felt a little action from the rods. Two of them, lying next to the channel on the underside of my cock, began to thrum from base to tip. The other two concentrated their effect on my glans. Where they met, under my balls, they almost hummed. The effect was slight, and there was no way it was going to get me off.



“Ain’t gonna happen. I’m just too tired.”



“I’ll have to help you, then.” She pulled out two feathers from under the chair, and began to tickle my feet. Even without the special clothing, the feather had the desired effect as my whole body tensed, then shook with laughter. The rods began thrumming along my genitals, bringing me quickly to orgasm. She didn’t stop there, and the rod’s vibrating wouldn’t let me go soft. A few minutes later I came again. The ball wasn’t quite full yet, though, and she wasn’t going to let up until it was topped off. I was forced to a third, almost painful orgasm. The results were little more than a few drops, but I guess it met her requirements.



I couldn’t laugh anymore. My body was completely drained of all energy. She removed the apparatus and unstrapped me. She had to help me dress in my meager clothes, then escorted me to the door. “Come back anytime.”



I stumbled to my car, got in, and sat there for a few minutes in order to recover. They had been very intense orgasms, and I was wiped out. I did manage to drive home.



* * * * * * * * * *



“So, how did you play tonight?”, my wife asked, seeing how wiped out I was when she got home. “Did you put up a good fight?”



“It was laughable.”



She didn’t appreciate my humor, either. I still had much to learn.



* * * * * * * * * *



Friday, June 7th







The package came in the mail today. A DVD box, decorated with a green and yellow diamond pattern, entitled ‘A night at Jester’s’. The Disc was a video of the comedians I had seen that night. Somebody in the audience thought the later acts were hilarious. Included were two long, stiff feathers, perfect for application to the soles of feet.



* * * * * * * * * *



Saturday, June 8th







My wife’s business is picking up, and consequently she is becoming very absorbed in her work. We haven’t had sex since before the fateful night I played racquetball with Tara, and she shows no signs now of missing it. My strange infidelity makes me wonder if she is fooling around with somebody; she must be releasing her sexual energy somehow.



With the rise in her business, we have started to house hunt again. We had always dreamed of something a little bigger than what we have now. Another distraction in my already confused life. Today we went looking at new houses. For some reason I was drawn to Tara’s neighborhood, but my wife had seen one in a realty magazine that she wanted to check out. It was out in the country, and as we walked through it with the realtor all I could think of was how I could recreate my Wednesday nights in the new house. A dentist’s chair in the den , stables in the back, maybe even an exercise room.



* * * * * * * * * *



Tuesday, June 10th



Work was slow enough today that my regular daydreams of sexual dominance by women were usurped by my dim-witted memory. It was the green and yellow checkerboard pattern of a soda cup that did it.



I thought back to my first night under the ‘tutelage’ of Tara. The women that passed me that night had all been decked out in bizarre costumes. When I saw the checkerboard, it had clicked in my head, but the old ‘two and two is four’ moment didn’t arrive until now. Sharp as ever, I thought to myself. Only took you a couple of weeks to figure it out.



I made a mental checklist. There had been seven women of note that night. Tara, in white. I ended up as her sculpture.



The second had been in red. I haven’t encountered her yet.



The third, in purple, had taught me about ponyboys.



The fourth had been in blue. The Masseuse.



The fifth, a harlequins outfit of green and yellow. I had been pretty dense on that one, too.



The sixth had been in black. She scared me then. I had experienced some nasty stuff so far, and I could see her as a mean one.



The last was in zebra stripes. The way she had grabbed me that night, I got the distinct impression that she had it in for me for some reason. After my recent experiences with a few of the women, I get the distinct impression that they don’t have a high opinion of men. But maybe that’s just me being paranoid.



Four down, three to go.



* * * * * * * * * *











Wednesday, June 12th 5th instance







The package for the night was a box that looked like it would come from your average clothing department store. I had spent over an hour searching for it outside and in, with my wife asking me the entire time what I was looking for, and had finally found it under the master bed. I mumbled something to my wife about misplacing my keys, and hoped that she would mark it up to my general forgetfulness. Whoever was delivering the package had guts; they were sneaking in during the day and planting the packages, all the while risking being caught if either my wife or I came home unexpectedly. When my wife was finished getting dressed, she kissed me goodbye and headed out. I pulled out the box and opened it.



Inside was a pair of black dress shoes, a pair of grey dress pants, grey socks, a charcoal grey shirt, and a red sweater. Also inside was a red leather pouch containing a thick condom like item, a tube of the goop, and a piece of paper with an address and time on it. I got my controller from the cedar chest and put it on the night table.



This would make the fifth time that I had with full consent (technically) set myself up for a situation that I knew nothing about. My plain lifestyle with the hidden secret of reading erotic stories had snowballed so far out of control that I moved through a dream world most of the time. Every waking moment was filled with what might happen to me on the next Wednesday night and what might happen if my activities were revealed to the world or worse, my wife.



I stripped naked and started by massaging the goop onto my dick until it was good and hard, then applied the condom. I reached over to the nightstand, tapped in my code and waited. BEEP. The condom constricted a little, then changed before my very eyes, and after a few seconds I couldn’t tell that anything was different. It was no longer a condom, but a second skin encasing my slowly deflating manhood. I got dressed in the rest of the clothes and headed out to the address on the paper.



* * * * * * * * * *







The first thing that I noticed when I came to was the heat. Wherever I was, it must have been at least 100 degrees F. My head ached from whatever was in the food or the wine; it had certainly done a number on me. Vague recollections of an apartment and an attractive brunette floated in and out of my fogged brain. I opened my eyes to a room of red just as realized I was fastened vertically to some type of rack, my arms pulled out from my body at shoulder level, my legs separated by at least three feet. Straps at my wrists, elbows, ankles, knees, neck and across my forehead kept me firmly restrained.



Moving my eyes around, I took in the furnishings of my newest ‘situation’. I seemed to be in some type of medieval dungeon painted flame red. About ten feet across the room from me was a fireplace, a huge construction of blackened fieldstone with a maw at least five feet five high with a fire inside burning high. To the left of that was some type of cage, probably for keeping unfortunates. To the right of the fireplace was a rack from which a number of whips, crops, and paddles hung. Oh great, I thought, I’m gonna get my ass whipped.



For the briefest of moments, I thought to myself that it was good that I could at least keep some semblance of humor about my situation. If I couldn’t laugh about the things that happened to me, I think I would have lost my sanity long ago.



I felt the hand the same moment I heard her voice. “Well, my little lover,” the voiced purred into my ear from behind, as the hand slid down my chest towards my growing cock, “it seems you are finally…up.” With that she gripped my cock hard, and I felt another hand come around and start to massage my chest. My head strained to see my tormentor, but the neck strap held me firm.



“A we bit anxious, aren’t we?” the voice said, and the hands began to stroke my hardening member. “Maybe we should show the little slave what he has sold his soul for tonight, eh?”



With that, the hand left my now fully erect cock and I heard the slow click-clack of heels on stone as she walked from behind me. I can only describe as what would be a female devil, only one warped by Tara’s prosthetics. Physically she was very attractive, but who could tell what was real? Curly brown hair cascaded across her shoulders, but did not detract from the full pouting lips or pointed horns protruding from her forehead. From neck to toes she was covered in shiny red latex, with boots that had at least a four inch heel. Around her midriff, from the hips to where it supported her breasts, was a shiny red latex corset. The suit evidently had a few very strange details, as I thought that I could see it’s contour tight around her sex – no, it would be more appropriate to say that it went into her sex. I could see the outlines of her vaginal lips as she stood in front of me. But it was her tail was that really caught my attention. At least five inches thick at the base where it was attached at the top of her asscrack, the tail was at least four feet long and ended in a wide spade tip. What was so strange was that it didn’t bob or sway in motion as she walked, but seemed to move of it’s own accord, almost like a snake.



My heart, which normally beats well within the confines of my chest, had suddenly decided that it was going to beat so hard and loud that my hearing would fade away and my ribs would crack. Panic or erotic excitement, or maybe a combination of the both, had gotten it to a level on par with the most extreme physical duress I had put it under. I had a really, REALLY bad feeling about this one.



She smiled at me, showing off a set of perfect teeth, when she saw my reaction to her outfit. I’ve said before that my cock was a traitor to the best of my attentions, and once again it was determined to show it’s appreciation of my new companion’s costume by stealing away as much blood from my body as it could possibly hold. It was now so hard it started to hurt. She walked over to the rack on the wall and started looking through the whips that were hung there. Finally she picked one, a many-strapped flogger made of latex. “Ready for a night in the burning depths of my hell? No? Maybe next time you’ll be a little more careful with your agreements.”



In my mind I remembered telling Tara I would go to Hell and back for her. This was taking it a little more literally than I could have conceived. I sputtered out, a little too loudly, “I don’t remember agreeing to this.”



Her first blow caught me off guard, right across the chest. I gasped loudly, not so much from the pain but from surprise. In fact, the strike itself didn’t hurt much at all. The second blow came across my right thigh, and then my left.



“Sure you did. During dinner, or have you put it out of your mind already? We were talking about you and your wife, and how you, as the loving and caring husband that you are, would go to hell and back for your wife.” If I had said that, I didn’t remember it, but it sounded like something I would say. I think I was saying it too often.



“You also told me that you would do anything for her. So I decided to see if you would spend a night in hell for her.” She traced the tip of the flogger across my chest, and gave me another light tap.



I thought that this would be, no, could be one of the easier trials I would have to endure when I noticed my chest was starting to burn. There was something caustic coating the straps of the flogger.



She walked around me and gave my back a good whack. By now my chest was on fire and my thighs started to ache. My eyes started to tear up, and I was on the verge of crying just from my burning skin. Whatever coated the flogger was worse than liquid heat, and every stroke she made, however light, was starting to hurt more then any whipping I could have imagined.



She proceeded around me, and saw my tearing eyes. “Well? What happened here? It seems mister erotica can’t take a little beating now and then. After all those stories where men are spanked or paddled, and this is what happens when you are put to the test?” She stroked my now flaccid penis. “And that big thick cock of yours has gotten so small. Isn’t this the ‘turn on’ you thought it would be? Tara told me you and her had made a deal, but it doesn’t seem that you are holding up your end of the deal very well.” She playfully pulled and massaged my cock for a moment, and the little bastard started to revive.



“I think we should make a deal of our own. You let me fuck you until I cum, and we call it quits, or I can continue to beat you for…” she looked over my shoulder, presumably at a clock on the wall behind me, “the next hour and a half. Well?”



“No… more… beating,” was all I could blurt out.” The pain on my chest, thighs and back had gotten to the point where I thought my skin must have been peeling off. Tears flowed so heavily from my eyes I could hardly see as she made some adjustments to the rack.



“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear that. Did you say ‘fuck me like the slut I am, mistress’, or, ‘beat me and whip me the way they do it in the stories, because it always seemed like the characters were having fun’?'”



I knew the ritual, but the pain still made it hard to talk. “Fu…fuck me like…like the slut I am. Mistress.”



“Excuse me. I didn’t quite hear that over your pathetic sobbing. Maybe you didn’t mean it.” She walked back to the rack and exchanged the flogger for a red leather riding crop.



No, no no no no NO! I wasn’t going to go through a beating with a cane covered with whatever that stuff was. It was amazing how quickly my remaining resolve was crushed.



“FUCK ME LIKE THE SLUT I AM, MISTRESS!” My body shook as I yelled out. I was sobbing. The crop hit the inside of one thigh, then the other, and I strained in pain against the bonds.



She grabbed hold of my (again) limp prick and began to slowly massage it back into to hardness. She quickly went into a squat position in front of me and directed the conversation towards my cock. “Oh, you look like quite the little pleasure tool, you know that? Do you give wifey all the orgasms she can handle, or are you a ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ type of cock? Well, I’ll tell you, Mr. Fuckstick, your owner doesn’t know how to phrase a request, and he didn’t use the magic word.” With that she slid a ring down the shaft of my cock to the base. Before I could say anything she started tapping the crop on my now rising member. “Maybe we should beat it out of him.”



Forget this. She is the most psychotic of all the women yet. She wants a total submissive? She gets a total submissive.



“MISTRESS, PLEASE! FUCK ME! USE MY BODY! I AM NOTHING MORE THAN YOUR SLUT, TO BE USED BY YOU!” I added, through my sobbing, “Just don’t beat me anymore.” The sweat on my body had carried the caustic liquid to areas where I hadn’t been hit, and caused an intense burning/itching feeling. It felt my entire body was on fire.



“That was better, don’t you think? Well, ask and you shall receive.” With that she pushed at my forehead with her index finger, ever so slightly, and suddenly I felt myself falling backward. The rack must have been counterweighted, and it stopped at a horizontal position with a jolt. She walked around to the top of the device, undid the neck restraint, and pushed a small pillow under my head. She walked away for a minute, and then returned to where my head was and fiddled with something beneath my neck. My head bobbed back so I was looking directly into her crotch, but only for a moment. Just as I noticed the fact that the latex between at her pussy was now glisteningly wet, she picked up my head so that I was looking down my chest, and locked it in position. She then returned between my legs. In her hand was a small tube of some sort.



“Just a little grease to help things along.” She squeezed what I thought was more than enough of the stuff into her hand, rubbed her hands together, and started to massage my cock up and down. Then her administrations went further south. With her right hand she held onto my cock, and with her left she began rubbing my balls. I began to forget about the burning feeling on the rest of my body.



My cock was straining for release, and I realized that what she had put on me was a cock ring. It wasn’t so tight that it wouldn’t come off, but it certainly restricted blood flow out of my member.



Her right hand began to move up and down my shaft, the latex gloved hand feeling odd but good as it touched my glans. Her left hand was now behind my balls, pressing the tender spot there, and I felt a finger dip down start to explore my anus. Before my experience with Tara, I had never thought I might like having my anus massaged, but I was quickly loosing that inhibition.



“You mustn’t be so tense. Relax and enjoy.” I tried to relax, and felt her finger slide into me and against my prostrate. If it hadn’t been for the cock ring, I would’ve cum right there. She pulled the finger almost all the way out, the slid it back in again. After a few minutes, another finger joined the first, and my anus started to relax enough that both fingers were now sliding in and out easily. Then a third finger joined the others and, after a moment of pain as my anus stretched, I began to enjoy it.



Sort of.



“Are we ready for the fucking then? Good.” She stood up and spread her legs. With my head positioned to watch everything, I saw the tail slowly lift and curl up between her legs, and she grabbed it with her left hand. She closed her legs with about eight inches of the tail now standing straight out from her body like a mockery of a male organ, and began to stroke it with her still greasy hands. On the first stroke the spade tip came off, revealing a long, thin, bright red phallus.

Oh shit.



My whole body tensed as she began to push it’s head against my asshole. “Come now. You said I could fuck you. In fact, you begged for it.”



“Please, no, it’s too big”



Again the phallus pushed, this time with more force. She grabbed my cock again with her right hand and started pumping it up and down as she pressed again with the phallus-tail. The pressure in my balls and cock was too great, and I relaxed my ass muscles. The phallus slid in, and she began to fuck me by rocking back and forth. The phallus tip of her tail was not much larger than one of her fingers, and my recently stretched anal ring closed snugly around it.



The feeling was strange, to say the least. It felt like I had to shit real bad; but the size and composition of the phallus were not completely uncomfortable. It was made of some soft material that let the interior of my anal channel form around it, instead of the hard stiffness I imagined a plastic dildo would feel like. She took long, smooth stokes, a little deeper each time, being sure not to damage me internally. I began to sob again, but I didn’t know why.



“So, do you like the fuck I promised you?” I could hear the laughter in her voice. “Had something else in mind when I talked about fucking, did you? Maybe you thought you would be sticking your cock inside me? ” She laughed a little, and then her voice got very quite and I had to strain to hear it. “I’m breaking the rules tonight, just for you. I’ll end up paying big time, but I think it’ll be worth it in the long run. I’m going to stuff that cock of yours into my hot little pussy. Think you can handle it?” She pushed in again, deeper than any other time, then stepped up onto the base of the rack with her left foot. This caused the phallus-tail to twitch to one side, and at the same time she reached down at my side.



My brain was going into overload. Sweat poured from my face, not only from the heat of the room and the effect of the lotion, but from true fear of what she might do to my dick if she took it inside her. “Please, no…”







“Remember this?” She lifted up a remote control, the kind I had come to wholeheartedly respect, and with her other hand grabbed the ring around my dick. ” I don’t think you need this anymore, ” and with that wiggled the ring off. She pressed a button on the remote, and suddenly my cock stood straight out from my body, held by some invisible force.



I had forgotten completely about the flesh covered sheath I put on first thing this evening. I could see that it was now changing color; at the base it was still the color of my skin, but it quickly faded to a deep red that matched her outfit.



She lifted her body up onto her left foot and swung her right foot over my leg, putting it on a rest at the back of the rack’s base. The left foot followed, onto the other side, and she was now straddling me. The phallus-tail was still imbedded in my ass as she grabbed my cock and lowered herself down on it. I slid in easily; there was evidently plenty of lubrication inside and still plenty on me from her earlier ministrations. She pressed another button on the remote and I felt the invisible force around my cock disappear. The sudden return to complete feeling made my cock ache all the more for orgasmic release. “What do you say you tell me how much you like being fucked, slave?”



“Please stop. I can’t take it anymore.”



“Wrong request.” She started sliding up my shaft, and I realized that the lubrication inside wasn’t natural. The latex devil suit must have had a sheath inside her, and she had coated it with a weaker version of the heat liquid. Weaker, I think, because if it had been full strength, it would have burned my dick off. Even so, as it came in contact with the air, my cock started to burn incredibly. She stopped halfway up. “It won’t burn as much inside, slave. Let’s try that request again. Do you want to be fucked?”



I failed completely. “MISTRESS, I LOVE WHEN YOU FUCK ME. PLEASE FUCK



YOUR SLAVE!”







I got a smile in response. “Much better.” She slid back down, and the burning imediately faded. But instead of humping me, she just sat there, and it took a moment before I realized why. The phallus in my ass started to pull out, and my internal muscles pushed to help it exit. Instead of being forced all the way out, though, it stopped, and started back in. I gasped out loud, and saw the she-devil on top of me laughing. “One of its many features – well place and effective hydraulics. I told you I was going to fuck you, and fuck you I will, and it will be twice the fuck anybody else will give you.”



I felt the evil appendage slowly force it’s way deep inside me again.



“You know the best thing about my tail, slut?”



Good god, there’s more? “No, Mistress…”



“It’s that every time I clench my asscheeks, my dick gets bigger. Don’t you wish yours was like that?” To emphasize the point, I felt her muscles clench had around my cock, evidently she used her kegel’s and ass muscles simultaneously. The tail tip stretched against my anus. The phallus started out again, and I felt it shoot something into my ass. The appendage seemed to have a life of it’s own, and started back in, more quickly, then out. My ass began to become numb, evidently from the ejaculate.



All this time she sat on top of me, laughing, while her tail-cock fucked me. In, out. In, out. In, out.



I felt her start to gyrate, grinding her red latex clit onto my pelvis. Before I knew it, she lifted herself almost off my cock, then back down again. My entire pelvic area was now going numb, and there was no longer any pleasurable feelings in her fucking. In fact, there was very little feeling left at all. As if by some signal, she started to pump up and down, and the phallus in my ass matched her rhythm, driving in when she was at the tip and pulling out when she sat down. I became a seesaw to her sexual conquest.



I wasn’t going to last long, and we both knew it. My entire body reached climax quickly, and I exploded into her. She continued to fuck me, and the phallus in my ass stimulated my prostate to another climax in the few minutes it took her orgasm. She climbed off me, the way she had climbed on, and pulled the dildo-tail from my ass. My still erect cock reached for the ceiling, but it had changed. The head was extended, evidently holding the cum from my two orgasms in the tip of the condom.



“Not bad for the first time. I hope next time you’ll think about what you ask for. You may get it. Of course, now that you’ve experienced a good ass fuck, I am sure you’ll be looking for another.” She picked up a towel from the floor beneath me and began to wipe me off. I hadn’t realized it, but the burning sensation on my chest and thighs had faded during our sexual bout. I wondered why that was, then wondered why anything was, and why the room was suddenly spinning around me.



“Was I too much for you, slut? Did my little ass-fuck take a lot out of you? Or should I say put a lot into you?” She started laughing again. One of my last conscious thoughts was that whatever her tail had shot into me had not only relaxed and numbed my ass, but was now knocking me out. Things faded to black.



* * * * * * * * * *



I woke up on my bed in my house, still reeling from the effects of the knockout drug, and stumbled into the bathroom to relieve my full bladder and now loose intestines. On the way back into the bedroom I noticed a small box wrapped in red latex on top of the television. I grabbed it and ripped it open. Inside was a red latex dildo eight inches long and a DVD in a red case, with black gothic lettering on the front which read, ‘Sex slut in HELL’. I unlocked the hidden drawer in the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and put the items in with the others without giving them a second glance, and relocked the drawer. My wife would be home soon.



I can only imagine what next Wednesday night will be like. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.



* * * * * * * * * *



Saturday, June 15th



In the shower this morning, I had nasty sexual thoughts. I always have sexual thoughts in the shower, but I don’t know of a guy that doesn’t. As I washed myself, I noted how nice it was to slip the bar of soap between my asscheeks, to make sure everything was clean. A moment later I slid my finger in. The soap burned for a moment, yes, but overall the feeling wasn’t unpleasant. I stopped before I made a mess. No need for the shock that I knew would await me for an unapproved orgasm.



Twice now I had something slipped into my ass by a woman, and the end result was that I now think I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to more.



* * * * * * * * * *



Wednesday, June 19th







After dinner my wife and I watched the beginning of the news, which added to her growing excitement over the state lottery. Nobody had won the big Super Seven lottery in a few weeks,



and the jackpot was close to sixteen million.



Like we were going to win. At the moment I didn’t really care if we *did* win. I was on short time as a plaything for Tara and her friends, and I was filled with mixed emotions. While the experiences I was having were exhilarating to say the least, the feeling that I was betraying my wife was making me a wreck. Correction: the *knowledge* was making me a wreck. Our relationship was founded on love and trust, not sex, and while I still loved her I could feel myself being drawn into this world of bizarre sex. Part of me wanted the experience and the guilt to end, but part of me (primarily the part located between my legs) wanted the kinky sex to go on, and on, and on.



While I was never the type to give a body part a name, I had decided that if anything was going to get a title, it would be my dick. And the title would be, ‘traitor’.



I was going to look outside for my expected delivery when I realized that I had beaten my wife home that afternoon and that she had never gone upstairs. As brazen as my delivery person has been, I had a feeling about where my package was.



This week’s package was on the pillows of our master bed. Black satin wrapping paper and a big red silk bow. At first I thought it had been left by my wife before she left for work in the morning, but then I opened it. Inside was a wide black leather belt with silver studs, and four buckling straps in the back. A two inch strap ran from the back to the front, with what I presumed to be a ball harness midway, and another harness for my cock which would lie flat against my stomach. There were also four sets of studded black leather cuffs, a matching collar, and a half-hood which would cover the upper half of my face and head. I had a pretty good idea which of the remaining women I would serve tonight.



I searched through the box for anything else, but found nothing but a slip of paper with an address and a time written on it. It was a place in the industrial district, where the remnants of the old steel factories used to be.



I stripped naked, then picked up the harness and stepped into it. When I got it almost all the way up, I pulled my semi-erect prick and balls through the hole in the crotch strap, then pulled it on the rest of the way. It was snug to start out with, but getting the buckling straps to their first hole made it downright tight. I affixed the attached ball stretcher, which quickly made my balls ache, and attached the crotch strap to the belt. With a little help I got my dick fully erect, and began buckling it in place, the first strap at the base, the second strap midway, and the last under the glans. They were too tight, and wouldn’t let my erection wane anytime soon. The cuffs and the collar were snug, but not restrictive. When I got the hood on and looked at myself in the mirror, I thought I could have played the torturer in a dungeon in one of those old movies they show on the classics channel. Well, if those movies had full frontal male nudity, maybe.



I pulled on a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and an old pair of sneakers and went out to the car. I didn’t bother to hide the hood or the wrist cuffs; I could no longer feel ashamed or humiliated at what I was doing. I did think it odd that, for the first time, there were no ‘additions’ to my body, and no use of the remote.







The parking lot outside the warehouse was filled with new Jaguars and BMWs, and I felt really out of place as I drove my beater around. I hoped (in vain, I knew) to find a place close to the door so that my trek across the lot wouldn’t expose me for too long. The harness made me feel acutely aware of my genitals; the stretching and strapping made them very sensitive. I found a space, parked, and headed for the only door I could see. It was huge and made of metal, probably left over from the days when the steel mill was here. A buzzer was on one side, and I pressed it. A small window opened in the door, but I could see nobody behind it.



“I was told to report here.”



A deep male voice replied, “Impossible. We have a dress code.” The window slid shut.



Son of a bitch. Is nothing easy with these people?



I pulled off the t-shirt, the sneakers and, looking around and seeing nobody, the sweats. I rolled them all into a bundle and stuffed it into some nearby bushes. I pressed the buzzer again, then dropped my hands in a vain attempt to cover my genitals. The window slid open again.



“Is this better?”



The door creaked open to reveal a long corridor lit by a few overhead bulbs. The figure behind the window was not to be seen. I entered and had the overwhelming feeling that I was walking to a gallows. I heard the door shut behind me, but at this point there was no looking back. The sound of music came from down the hall.



At the far end was another door, this one painted with a fancy logo which read, ‘The Twighlight Cafe’. A heavy industrial bass beat shook the ground and the walls, and when I opened the door, it made me take a step back.



Before me was a huge dance club, but not the type I had ever seen before. Most of the men there were dressed as I was; in fact, their harnesses were identical, and all were barefoot. The women dressed in a variety of sexy clothing, about half of which was made of red latex, with leather being the second preference. Everybody wore some type of facial covering. Another case of witness (and victim and perpetrator) identity protection. It was very surrealistic; the men were obviously servants of some sort, and the women were built like busty aerobics instructors. There didn’t seem to be a whole lot of body fat anywhere. I felt very out of place, but the hood hid my identity, and I could blend with this crowd. I went in and tried to figure out who I was supposed to be with tonight.



I didn’t have long to work on it, because she found me. I remembered her from my night as an art object. She was dressed head to toe in studded black leather; thigh high spike heeled boots, skirt, bustier, elbow length gloves, and a mask, all in the same metal adorned leather. Long curly blonde hair reached her waist. I felt my cock strain against it’s bonds, and again tried to cover it.



“Hands at your side, Alan. I want to see all of you.” I complied, blushing a bright red.



“Not bad. You could almost pass as a personal servant, if you could control that blushing of yours. A little more meat on your bones wouldn’t hurt, either. But there is something missing.” She held out her hand, which contained two more studs, just like those on the leather. Only these were earrings.



“My ears aren’t pierced.”



She seemed contemplative for a moment, then spoke, “Follow me.” She walked past a bar to a door I hadn’t noticed. I realized I didn’t notice much about the club with her walking in front of me like that because the heels made her hips sway perfectly. A little constriction pain reminded me of the harness.



We ended up in a little lounge area with a couple of people in it. She retrieved a strange looking gun-like device from a cabinet and put one of the studs in the tip, which she put to my earlobe. I felt a sharp pain as the needle was driven through, but it went numb after a few seconds. The second one was worse, because I knew it was coming. Nobody in the room seemed to care, or even notice, when I yelped.



“From this point on you will refer to me as Mistress Dana. If I give you a command, you will follow it. You will reply to any statement I make to you with ‘yes, Mistress Dana’ or ‘No, Mistress Dana’ or any other appropriate reply. When I walk, you will follow two steps back, and to my left. Do you understand?”



“Yes, Mistress Dana.” My head swam. It felt like I was drunk or stoned. I could hear my voice speaking, but it seemed detached. My earlobes, so recently pierced, burned with bee-sting pain. The effect lasted a only a minute, though.



“Slave, on your knees.” I dropped before I could even think about it. Something was wrong with me. She walked over to an overstuffed leather chair, and I followed on hands and knees, two steps back and to her left. She turned, hiked up her skirt, and sat down. She wore no underwear and revealed a well trimmed bush. “Lick my pussy.”



Now, I wasn’t the best pussy eater in the world, but not for lack of trying. I had never had another woman in my life besides my wife, and cunnilingus wasn’t something she normally asked for. Regardless, I felt this was a little out of bounds. She wanted me to do something that I felt was a true violation of my wedding vows.



Silly, when you think of everything that had happened to me so far, but those were the thoughts that flitted through my head. My body moved of it’s own volition; my mouth opened and my tongue began lapping at her clit. I didn’t want to do this, but couldn’t force my body to stop. I was trapped in a body that was no longer obeying my commands.



“Not like that, you ass. Be gentle, explore, lick here and here. Extend your tongue into my pussy.” She began to give directions on placement and technique; how hard or soft; how fast or slow, where and when. My mind retracted into itself. I could hear her voice, but it was no more than background noise. After a few minutes her back arched as an orgasm shook through her body.



“See, Slave? It’s easier if you don’t resist. It’s amazing what those earrings can do.” Earrings? Oh shit, I was dense. There must have been something in the earrings, and it was having this effect on me. My tongue kept lapping away, trying to bring Mistress Dana to another orgasm.



“If you concentrate on what you’re doing, you’ll enjoy it a lot more.” I focused my mind on eating her pussy, and found I was becoming one with my body again. It still moved of it’s own volition, though. Mistress Dana had a second orgasm, then a third.



“Much better, slave. I think you need more practice, though.”



“Thank you, Mistress Dana.” I couldn’t believe I had just thanked a woman, other than the one I loved, for allowing me to eat her out. I could feel the heat of my skin as I blushed in anger and embarrassment.



At a motion from her hand, three women dressed in red latex mini-dresses sat on the couch. Each looked like a model, with slim waists, firm chests, and incredible legs and asses. “You will bring each of them to orgasm.” My body crawled over to the first, and as she lifted the hem of her dress I stuck my head in and began licking and nibbling away. She made a few comments to Mistress Dana, who corrected me, and reached orgasm in just a few minutes. The second was even quicker, and the third had me build her up to just short of cumming and then had me keep her there for nearly fifteen minutes before taking her over the edge. My tongue felt like a swollen mass of wet sandpaper and my jaw ached, but I was happy because I had just brought four women to orgasm orally in under an hour, whereas I had never been able to do it truly effectively in my life. I thanked Mistress Dana.



“Clean up, slave. We have work to do.” I took a proffered towel, wiped off, then followed Mistress Dana back into the club proper. I discovered that if I wanted, I could disassociate my mind from my body at will, sort of like reading while watching a movie. Mistress Dana could give me commands which I would follow without question and without me really paying attention. It made it a little easier to deal with my guilt, but not much.

I found myself on the dance floor, opposite Mistress Dana and some other attractive women. They began to show me how to dance, how to move to music, how to not touch a women and yet be focused on her, how to let go on a dance floor. Each of the women would make suggestions or corrections, and my body would remember them. They showed me how to slow dance and fast dance, and, once they realized how quickly I was learning, how to line dance and follow another’s steps in order to learn a new dance. I hoped I would remember all this.



I looked around us and spotted some familiar people. The majority of the women there were in red latex outfits. A minority were in black, usually leather. A few, however, were dressed in striking colors. One dressed in purple looked like my horse trainer. Another in green and yellow made my feet itch. There were at least a half dozen others. It was then that I realized what was happening. I was dressed in a leather harness, my strapped down erection obvious to all. I was surrounded by sexy women and guys that were their slaves. I stopped dead in my tracks and once again felt the heat of my embarrassment rise from my skin. Mistress Dana noticed, too.



I looked at her, bewildered. “What happened to me?”



She looked resigned. “Don’t you mean, ‘What happened to me, Mistress Dana’?”



“Um, what happened to me, Mistress Dana?”



“I gave you a drug to facilitate your learning. The small amount in your new earrings was absorbed through your new piercings.” She nodded to herself. “Time’s up. Don’t worry, it has no negative side effects. I don’t like to use drugs, normally. It’s just that I only had a limited amount of time. Come with me.” She walked off, and I fell in step, two paces behind and to her left.



“Very good. A good slave knows and remembers his place. Now get in here.” She motioned to a black curtain at the side of the dance floor. I got in and she pulled the curtain shut, leaving me in darkness. I was in an area about five feet in diameter, in pitch black. I heard her voice over the muffled music.



“One last service to me tonight, slave. Dance as you would if you were a stripper seducing crowds of women who wanted your cock. Be a tease. Don’t stop until I tell you.” My body began swaying, thrusting, and gyrating like I had seen strippers do it in movies. My hands caressed my chest, my aching balls, my swollen prick. I felt the floor move under me, but I couldn’t stop dancing. The curtain rose up, revealing to me that I was in a large stainless steel cage, thirty feet above the dance floor. All around the club were other men in similar cages, all doing similar dances. My mind was flooded with music, and all I could think of was my dance.



I don’t know how long it was before it stopped. The cages were lowered to the floor, and Mistress Dana let me out. “Very good, slave. You may stop.” My body dropped from exhaustion.



“Well, only one thing more before our evening is ended. You’ve been very good tonight, and we like to reward all slaves. Follow me.” Again she motioned, and again I followed behind. She led me to an alcove off the main club floor. A figure squatted inside, and I could see that it wore a stainless steel chastity belt which made it look sexless, and a matching stainless steel hood which left only the bottom of the nose and the mouth exposed. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female; budding breasts and lips in bright red lipstick would lead me to believe the latter, but the broadness of the shoulders and the size of the hands I thought it could be male. It had no body hair that I could see.



“Slave, this is the servitor. The servitor provides relief for slaves and personal servants. The servitor is only here to please.”



I quickly caught the gist of her intent, but for some reason this person in front of me didn’t look exactly willing. “I thank you for the offer, Mistress Dana, but I respectfully decline.” It wasn’t true. I ached like I had never cum in my whole life but, after having been drugged into performing sexual acts, I wasn’t going to do that to somebody, anybody, else..



“So be it. I have to exact my measure from you and, since you decline my gift, we will do things the hard way.” She reached down and grabbed my balls, and undid the straps which held my cock. It sprung forth with a rush of blood, and my knees went weak. I made a mental note to have my blood pressure checked because of the way my knees buckled whenever I was with these weird women. Mistress Dana pulled me forward against the wall, and quickly jerked me to a rough orgasm. Just as I was about to come, she let go, ruining the effect for me. There was no pleasure for me as cum dribbled from the end of my cock to be caught in an empty glass she grabbed from the bar. Mistress Dana then proceeded to milk my cock, her deft hands wringing every drop of my juice out of me. I quickly became oversensitive, and her rough handling became very painful.



“PLEASE STOP, Mistress Dana!”



She gave my member a few more tugs, then refastened it in it’s harness. “Next time I offer you something, you will take it and like it. If a Mistress ever gives you an order, you will follow it immediately, no matter how repulsive. Understand?”



“Yes, Mistress Dana.” She led me back to the entrance. I felt her hand replace the large stud earrings with small, gold and diamond ones. “Now get out of here. You did well, but I think the drugs were a big part of that. If I ever have to train you again, I’ll do it with a whip and rack.” I had no doubt I would rather not experience that. I walked down the corridor to the steel door. This night was different; I realized I had been brought here to learn, not to be experimented on. Looking back, I discovered most of my nights were learning experiences.



I was being trained, but for what, I didn’t know.



The door swung open as I approached; once I passed through, it slammed shut behind me. I went over to the bushes only to find my clothes gone. My wallet, now empy of it’s cash, lay a few feet away. I was glad that I had left the car keys in a hide-a-key in the bumper.



* * * * * * * * * *



My car’s vinyl seat was cold against my bare ass. I tossed my wallet on the other seat, and started her up. It was late, and would have to make up some time in order to not draw to much attention to myself with my wife.



My tires spun as I pulled out of the parking lot, and I sped down the road. I knew some back roads that would get me home quicker, as long as there were no cops out. Of course, as soon as I thought that, I saw the lights flashing behind me. There was no way I could out run them.



* * * * * * * * * *



I heard the footsteps come up alongside my car, a flashlight examining first the back seat, then the front. It stopped on my leather harness.



“Something wrong, officer?” I said through my open window. The light moved up and blinded me.



A female voice spoke. “Get out of the car, pervert.”



I unlocked the door and opened it. “Officer, you see…”



She cut off my feeble explanation by pulling me out of the car and slamming me into the side. “Yeah, I see plenty. If you want to be a fucking pervert, you do it on your own time in your own house, not speeding through the streets.”



“I’m sorry officer, but my clothes were stolen at a party. I’m stuck wearing this.”



“A pervert party, eh?”



“No ma’am. I was at a place called the Twighlight Cafe. I had to wear this to get in, and when I came out, my clothes were gone.”



“Bunch of sick fuckers, if you ask me. What were you doing there, anyway?”



“I…I was learning to dance.”



“Dance?” I could here the laughter in her voice. “You can dance anywhere in this city. You don’t need to wear that thing to dance.”



“I was playing a part. Acting. I learned a few other things, too.”



“What are you, a male stripper or something?”



I thought about the dancing in the cage. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m still learning.”



“Well then, Mr. Pervert, show me this dance you learned. If you convince me it was worthwhile, I’ll let you go. Otherwise you get to see how many friends that outfit will make you when I put you in the city lockup.”



I flushed a bright red, but resigned myself. “Can I have some music?”



“Sure.” There was still laughter in her voice.



I reached in and turned up the radio, then followed her back to the front of her car. She sat, leaning against the hood between the headlights. They way she was positioned, I was blinded whenever I looked at her. I began to dance seductively, as I was taught, and my body took over for my mind. My eyes closed, and I tried to lose myself in the dance.



The song ended, and she spoke again. “Very nice. What else did you learn?”



“It’s sort of difficult to tell.”



“Do you want your picture in the morning paper?”



“No.”



“Fess up.”



“I…” I couldn’t say this to a cop, let alone a female cop, but it was pretty obvious what my choices were. “I learned how to perform oral sex on a woman.”



“Oh, really?” She was trying hard not to laugh out loud.



“Yes ma’am.”



“Then let’s see if you can do that as well as you can dance. Eat me.”



I heard her undo her belt and unzip her pants. Again, my body seemed to know what to do better than my mind. I walked over to her and dropped to my knees. She spread her legs wide, and I could feel that her panties were already wet. I moved in aggressively, pulling the panties aside and driving her to a quick orgasm as I had done to the one woman on the couch.



The cop leaned back on the hood and moaned. Her hips thrust upward while her hands grabbed the back of my head and mashed my face into groin. Her grip relaxed as I work hard on her, and I drew out her second orgasm until she finally cried out for release. I don’t think she was disappointed.



She finally let me up. “Get out of that thing.” She got dressed.



“But…What’ll I wear?”



“You can tell people you were robbed of your clothes. Tell them the story you told me and they’ll never believe it while you’re wearing that. I’ll get you a blanket.”



I undid the harness, took off the cuffs and the hood, and caught the blanket that she threw at me. She grabbed the leather bits. “I’ll take that, as evidence.”



I walked back to my car and got in, still wrapped in the light blanket. The officer followed me home and was nice enough to explain to my wife that I’d been mugged and just needed a good night’s rest. My wife called in to my workplace and told them that I wouldn’t be in tomorrow.



* * * * * * * * * *



Thursday, June 20th







The next morning I went out for the newspaper, and sat on the front stoop while I read it. It was beautiful outside; warm without the stickiness of the approaching summer. It was sunny and the warmth felt good. I idly flipped through the pages of the local rag. For just a moment I could forget about things…things that had been done to me. I sat there and enjoyed my time in the normal world.



We hadn’t won the lottery, again.



My favorite quarterback was retiring and his team had a first round draft, so I had something to look forward to over the next few months as the team reports came out.



I had just turned to the comics when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Under a bush, just to the side of the door. A black box wrapped in a bright red bow. I dropped the paper and reached for the ‘present’. Inside was the harness, the cuffs, and the hood from the previous night, all nicely cleaned. There were also two DVDs this time. The first was in a black box, entitled, ‘Slave to Pussy: One man’s story’ and the other ‘Bad Boyz: Erotic tales of the Highway Patrol’.



* * * * * * * * * *



Friday, June 21st



I told my wife that, on a whim, I had decided to get my ears pierced. One of the exhibitors at a show had somehow convinced me that it was the thing to do. She thought it odd, but decided to help me by telling me how to keep holes clean and free from infection until they healed properly. She did comment that, while she knew I was going through a few changes, she wanted to make sure that we discussed and further unusual activities prior to their occurance.



I think I am developing an ulcer from the guilt that is eating away at the lining of my stomach. My only saving grace is that the entire affair (for lack of a better word) will be over soon. Not soon enough, but soon.



* * * * * * * * * *



Saturday, June 22nd



For the loving care my wife had given me Wednesday night and Thursday, I tried out my new expertise on her this evening. I got no complaints, a slightly bewildered look, and a comment that she would have to figure out a way to pay be back.



* * * * * * * * * *



Tuesday, June 25th



I have been more than excited (and also a little relieved and depressed at the same time) at the approaching Wednesday. I have successfully kept the happenings of the past seven Wednesdays a secret from my wife, and tonight would make the eighth and final night. On that initial Wednesday I played racquetball and was led into a forced sexual encounter. I had also been forced in to agreeing to play a part in seven more ‘episodes’. Tonight was the seventh and last.



There was no way that I could honestly say that I hadn’t enjoyed at least parts of what had happened to me. I had been given single nights of depravity that matched anything I had ever read in the kinkiest of fantasies I had collected.



I learn that fantasy and reality are two totally different concepts. Fantasy worlds are sort of like the elation you feel as you fall out of an airplane; elation, fear, and an unreal endorphin rush that you wouldn’t mind living over and over again. Reality is the ground that stops your fall.



I had quickly discovered that there were two huge drawbacks to my new reality. The first was the completely overwhelming and crushing guilt of what I had done and might do to my wife and our relationship if she ever found out. That guilt went a long way in extinguishing the pleasure I had gotten from the kinky activities, and I was actually paying far more in depression than I had received in pleasure.



The second was the knowledge that, had I been given the opportunity to do any or all of these things *before* I had committed to my current monogamous lifestyle, I would most likely have slipped completely into a world of lust and depraved sex. What made it so bad was I was no longer sure which option I would have taken, given a choice of the two possible futures.



* * * * * * * * * *



Wednesday, June 26th



I found the package on the front porch when I got home from work today. It was tall and thin, like a box for a stand up mirror. Before anybody could see me, I pulled it inside and lugged it upstairs. It wasn’t so much heavy as it was unwieldy. I slid it into the back of the hall closet until the fateful time for that evening arrived.



* * * * * * * * * *







We had salads for dinner that night. My wife told me that instead of her aerobics and choir tonight, she was supposed to be having dinner with some prospective clients. I felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought of her going out with somebody else. Despite everything I had done over the last two months, she was my wife and I was jealous of her time. She reassured me that the client was a female and that I had nothing to worry about.



I realized then how low I had sunk. Each of these escapades was eroding the fabric of my relationship with my wife. With each act of debauchery, I was seperating myself from her even further. I thought it odd that, despite my pangs of jealousy towards my wife, I was willing to do anything to make sure she wasn’t hurt. If she ever found out, we would be through. I tried to put the feelings behind me.



When she came downstairs after changing I felt my heart leap. I hadn’t truly noticed before, but her aerobics class and the diet had really trimmed down her body; it was back in the shape I knew when I met her. She looked stunning in a new business suit and heels, and her make-up was done just right. Again I felt jealous. She rarely, if ever, wore heels, despite how good she looked in them. And when she did, they were never for my benefit. The overall package of beauty in front of me was created for somebody else, and I admit I whined a bit about the fact.



“Honey, you know this is just business. I do have to entertain prospective clients occasionally. Now, I have to go. Don’t forget to pick up the tickets. And don’t wait up too late; I don’t know how long this will take.”



‘Don’t forget to pick up the tickets’ should have been her mantra. I was at the point where I picked them up automatically on the way home from work. She looked so good that when she left I almost forgot it was Wednesday.



I went upstairs and pulled the box out of the closet. Inside was a black body suit much like the one I wore that first night when I was in Tara’s artwork, only this time there was no hood. Also contained in the box was a tuxedo, black socks, new shoes, a pair of black leather driving gloves, a black leather mask for around my eyes, a tube of gel, and the remote. I quickly got into the suit, my erection standing at attention, and then dressed in bodysuit and the tuxedo. There was enough flexibility in the cock collar that after I was locked into the suit, my erection didn’t tent the tuxedo pants. Well, not much. The mask, adhering to my face my Tara’s magic chemicals, would give me some anonymity. I searched the box for a note, and found it inside the tux jacket. It simply gave a time a few hours from now. I guess my wife wasn’t the only one going out tonight.



I went downstairs and watched television until the appointed time when I heard a car pull into the driveway. Before I could turn off the t.v. the doorbell rang. Waiting outside was a female chauffeur, dressed in skin tight black leather dress, spike heels, driver’s hat, and mirrored sunglasses. She led the way to the car and, without speaking a word, let me into the back of the stretch limo parked in the driveway.



The interior of the passenger compartment was done completely in zebra stripped upholstery, and I was the only occupant. As the car pulled down the road, I poured myself a drink from the bar.



* * * * * * * * * *



When the car stopped a little while later and the door opened, I found myself at a store named ‘The Twighlight Zone’. A quick look around confirmed that it was in the same area as ‘The Twighlight Cafe’. Go figure. Captain Obvious figures out another mystery. As I walked up to the doors, my limo pulled away.



Inside, the store lived up to it’s name. Mannequins, both male and female, were dressed in everything from lace to latex to leather. Elegant ballroom dresses to one side were counterbalanced by bondage corsets on the other. It was a place for people with lots of money and lots of different dressing ideas. I strolled down the main aisle, and headed for a small group of people.



“It was incredible. He was hung like a horse, and didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to. He just…Oh, excuse me, sir. You’re here for the fashion show? Please follow me.” An attractive women in a silver evening dress and heels separated herself from the group took my arm and led me deeper into the store.



The place was huge! At least as big as any department store at the mall. It wasn’t just lingerie and bondage clothes they sold, either. Designer jeans, sneakers to high heel boots, erotic toys, household knick-knacks, even furniture! I didn’t see any prices on anything, and figured that people that could afford things like this didn’t worry about prices.



I was taken into a large ballroom area that was at the very back of the store. A long model’s runway ran down the middle from a curtained area at the back. At either side and at the end were placed rows of comfortable chairs; many were filled with women and men dressed similarly to me. My escort directed me to a specific open seat, and I twisted my way through the intervening attendees.

I recognized her immediately. Well, not like I knew her, but it was obvious that she was somebody special and I had quickly learned that the women I had been dealing with all these weeks would stand out in a crowd, even one as diverse and eclectic as this one. She sat at the end of the runway, just off to the side. Her evening dress was made of glittering scales that at first looked dark silver, but on closer examination actually formed a stripped pattern, much like a zebra. She wore matching heels, gloves, a choker, and a mask. Very little of her actual flesh showed, and yet the effect was very sexual. I walked over to her.



“Is this seat taken?”



“Why Alan, must you ask?” I sat. Her voice sounded a bit odd, almost electronic. Somewhere between a husky woman’s voice and one of those computer generated voices. I assumed it had something to do with the choker.



I tried my best at manners. My previous occasions had not required much pretense on my part. Well, at least not much that I was permitted to remember. “I’m afraid you have the better of me.”



“Tonight you may call me Jackie. Mistress Jackie.”



“Well, Mistress Jackie, would you mind telling me what is on tonights venue?”



“It’s a fashion show for the new catalog. Tara asked me to do something special for her tonight, so I had to change my plans for you. Tonight you’ll be my guest for the upcoming fall line of the Twighlight Zone. I hope you play the part of guest correctly; if you embarrass me, I will get very angry, and you don’t want that. Consider this a night off, and we’ll do something different.”



“Every week it’s been something different. What kind of fashion show?”



“The Zone is doing some new pieces this year, and this is the pre-release party.”



I looked around in an attempt to recognize somebody, anybody, that I might know from the ‘real world’. Maybe an art dealer or such, but I couldn’t be sure. Everybody wore masks. “Are all these people buyers?”



“Some buy, some sell, some make contracts. It’s all business.”



A waitress took our orders for drinks. “Mistress Jackie? You seem a little more open then the others. Can I ask you a few questions?”



She faced me. “Sorry. Any questions you have will be answered at a later time. For now, sit back and enjoy the show.” There was something in the way she said those words that I didn’t like one bit. All the muscles in my shoulders immediately tensed.



Music started, and the first of the models came down the runway. She was dressed in a red satin waist cincher trimmed in white fur. I leaned over to Mistress Jackie. “Doesn’t seem too special.”



She whispered back, “Realize that most of these outfits are made of fabric which is made to heighten the sense of touch; that cincher is probably groping the model. Here, look in this.” She handed me a catalog, open to a picture of a different model in the same cincher. The description told of a heat control device, self contained batteries, and some other accessories. These were clothes to torture and tease, not just exhibit.



The next model was a male in a chastity harness, crawling on his hands and knees. The description told of a butt plug and a device called Khali’s teeth which kept down the erections. I remembered the device acutely. When he reached the end of the runway, I noticed he was wearing earrings like those put on me during one of my nights out. On closer inspection, I noticed his eyes had a glazed over look.



“Hey!” I turned to Mistress Jackie, “they drugged him!”



“Some of the models are drugged, yes. Some are real models, and they make a good dollar. But most of the people that you see up there tonight are being trained, and some of that training requires the use of drugs. Usually, those that have entered the program unwillingly are under the influence; it makes the training easier.” I thought of my experience last week when I had been drugged, and nodded my understanding. I still didn’t like it.



“There are others that have no idea what is going on, though.” I could hear the smile in her voice, even with the alteration. It was as if she had a secret she was excited about. “Occasionally, we pick out people we’ve met and have them model. They don’t remember anything the next day except that they had fun the night before. I think you may remember the effect.. We implant memories after the fact, and they are none the wiser.” I could hear the smile turn to giddiness.



“You can tell them because they wear hoods or masks to protect their identity. We may rework some people’s lives, but we’re not out to wreck innocent’s futures. Here comes one now.”



The figure on the path was dressed in a business suit. Black leather gloves, ballet boots, and a full hood drew my eyes away from it, though. When she reached the midpoint of the runway, she stripped off the skirt, jacket, and blouse to reveal a black leather bustier and matching shorts. A black latex phallus protruded from her front, springing up when she dropped the skirt.. Fishnet stockings covered her legs down to where they met the top of her ballet boots. She faltered for a moment as she walked down the runway, stopping every few steps. Something in my mind clicked; a feeling of deja-vu swept over me but I didn’t know why. I flipped through the book until I found the item. According to it’s description, the model by now would be hyper-stimulated from the butt plug, dildo, and clit massager. Hidden clamps were squeezing and drawing on her nipples. No wonder she was having a hard time walking.



“This is one of my creations. Do you like?”



“She’s very attractive, and it looks like she’s enjoying it. I don’t think it’s for me, though.” Whatever clicked in my head was now poking my brain, trying to draw my attention to something I couldn’t put together.



“You could get one for your wife.”



“First, I don’t think I could afford it. Second, my wife isn’t into that kind of thing.”



“Consider it a gift. And I’m sure she’s into that kind of thing.” Jackie giggled. “She looks pretty ‘in to it’ right now!”



My eyes went wide – the body shape was right, and the business suit was the one my wife had on earlier! I thought I could see my wife’s glazed over eyes inside the hood. They’d drugged her!



I snapped, there and then, and was out of my seat in a flash. “You BITCH! What did you do to her?” Heads turned around us. I felt myself being picked up and carried out of the room. Mistress Jackie followed behind, and on the stage my wife completed her runway walk.



The two guards set me down outside the room, but neither let go. I was doing my best to get my hands around Jackie’s throat, but they showed no inclination to let me accomplish the deed.



“That was uncalled for, Alan.” She was angry. “And you have now embarrassed me in front of everyone.”



“This wasn’t part of the deal. She’s not part of this. Let her go!”



“On the contrary, Alan, she is part of this. Tara told me you didn’t follow one of her commands, and this was to be your punishment. Remember?” My mind flipped back to when I had cum without Tara’s permission. It seemed so minor then. “If you are lucky, your wife won’t remember any of it. If you continue to be obstinate, we can let her keep some of her more orgasmic memories as a dream. One that you could never compete with.”



“No. This is too much. I want it stopped, now!”



“It’s too late, Alan. She’s already being fitted for her second outfit. I hear it’s a real hum-zinger. Or should I say, a cum-drinker?”



She pulled out a remote and tapped a button. Pain wrapped by balls and seared through me like a hot poker, and I dropped to the floor in my best impression of a baby curled up in the womb. She motioned to the guards, who cuffed me and pulled a hood over my head. I knew better than to resist as they forced the gag into my mouth and buckled the hood tight. A chain hobble kept me from running or kicking. As a final gesture, Jackie unzipped my pants and pulled out my semi-erect cock. She attached a leash around the base, and then proceeded to use the leash to drag me back into the ballroom.



The figure of my wife sat in a desk chair at the end of the runway, dressed again in her business suit, with the hood the only element out of place. Six female figures, nude except for strap-on dildo harnesses, filed down either side of the aisle and stood behind her. The first walked around and pointed to the floor. My wife got up, turned, and knelt before her as she sat in the chair. I pulled my eyes away from the scene on the stage and frantically flipped open the catalog with my cuffed hands.



‘Cocksucker trainer, for the slave that needs a little encouragement. Bulbs in the dildo’s ball sack contain up to four ounces of any liquid that simulate ejaculation; just squeeze them to release some or all of the contents. Larger sizes available on request.. Double-sided dildo trainer, filled with sensi-gel, designed to stimulate nerve endings on both ends.’







I looked up to see the figure sucking away at the phallus. Another of the women had mounted her from behind. I could feel tears well up in my eyes, and I started to hyperventilate.



Jackie leaned over and spoke into my ear. I thought I heard a change in the tone of her voice, as if she was sorry for what was happening. “Tara’s trading your wife’s orgasms for your’s. It was supposed to be you up there, but you were to be punished.” I could feel the anger rise even higher in me. “Besides, if she wasn’t here, she couldn’t do this.” Jackie made a motion with her hand, and the figures separated on the stage. The one I thought was my wife came down the stairs, followed by the six other models, and started rubbing men’s crotches. She would rub each for a minute or so, and then shake her head and move on. A few she pulled to their feet, then pulled down their pants, exposing huge erections. Each one of these received a blow job from one of the other women from the stage. Finally, the woman in the business suit got to me. She pulled me to my feet, then knelt in front of me. At a motion from Jackie, her mouth encased my entire cock while her hands fondled my balls. She kept sucking and licking, licking and sucking, and I felt my orgasm rise.



“Tara specifically said you weren’t to cum tonight, and this time you won’t be sneaking in your orgasm.” I heard the BEEP from Jackie’s remote, and my prick went numb. Try as she might, the woman in front of me couldn’t bring me to orgasm. After a few minutes trying, Jackie motioned her back onto the stage. She stumbled away in drugged submission, followed by the six other models. Applause followed them, the loudest clappers being those that had been on the receiving end of the blowjobs. Jackie made another motion, this time to somebody by the entrance. Two guards manhandled me to the exit, and Jackie removed the gag.



My statement was short and sweet. “If it’s the last thing I do, I will get you for this. You and Tara.”



“You are in no position to make threats, Alan. In fact, your little outburst tonight, plus the added fact that I was deprived of my actual plans so that you could be punished, has made me rethink my part in your little weekly escapade. You will be seeing me again, Alan, and soon. And don’t expect me to be anywhere as kind as I was tonight. You embarassed me, and for that you will pay.”



She made a gesture to the guards, and they dragged me outside, to the limo.



“Take him home.”



My driver came over and unceremoniously pushed me through the open door of the car. A moment after she got me seated, Jackie stuck her head in the doorway. “Drive him around until midnight, then strip and dump him in front of his house.” I mentally vowed revenge, and I think that I would have done my best to hurt Jackie right then and there if I wasn’t still shackled.



It was as if she could read my mind. “Try any funny business, and I’ll have her shock that dick right off your body. And I won’t say what we’ll do to your wife.” The compassion I had heard earlier in the night was now gone, and the nastiness had returned to her voice. “She still has a few more outfits to try on tonight. She is doing a pretty good job on the runway tonight. Maybe I’ll take her on as one of my slaves, and give her what she evidently isn’t getting from you.” I did my best to lunge for her, but accomplished nothing but to crack my head against the window as she slammed the door shut on the car, and on my world.



* * * * * * * * * *



At midnight the driver stripped me of the tux and released me from the suit, using the remote to remind me of the device around the base of my genitals which would cause me pain. In fact, she reminded me a few more times than I thought necessary, because after the first or second I was in no condition to resist anything. While I was on the ground wondering if self mutilation would stop the agony , the chauffer pressed another series of buttons on the remote, and I felt a sudden itch flash through my pain. She reached down, pushed my legs apart, and removed a flesh covered ring from around my genitals.



I was free.



When I recovered from her earlier ‘reminders’ and was able to get to my feet, I got up and stumbled naked across my own front yard. Nearly two hours of constant stimulation and denial in the limo, combined with the night ending pain, had left me very weak. I had other things on my mind, though. I fumbled with the front door lock using a spare we leave hidden outside. Once inside I ran upstairs to find my wife curled up in bed, sound asleep.



Safe.



It was if nothing had happened.



* * * * * * * * * *



Thursday, June 27th







I had to be out of the house early, before my wife got up, to attend to an early morning meeting. As soon as I could, I called my wife at work to see how things had gone the night before and to settle my nerves a little. I am no longer sure it was her on the runway, and the doubt is eating at me like a rat on a dead body. The surety was undermined not by anything I saw the woman say or do, but by my own inability to accept what happened. If I could convince myself that it didn’t happen, and my wife didn’t allude to anything, I could pass it all off as a bad dream.



She said she spent the evening with a woman named Tara Worthington, yes, but they had been at her Tara’s company’s club most of the evening discussing business.



I think my heart skipped a beat right there.



My wife was a little fuzzy on the details of the meeting, probably due to one too many glasses of wine, but she remembered that Ms. Worthington wanted someplace private where they wouldn’t be disturbed. It had been odd, because while they were there my wife could have sworn she had seen another women in a suit almost exactly like hers! The talk had gone well; Tara got a phone call late in the evening that made her happy; one of her partners had concluded some unfinished business of hers. She was so happy that she signed a big contract with my wife right there.



When I pressed for details, she couldn’t remember anything specific, and again chalked it up to too much wine. I surreptitiously asked her some more questions about the evening, and her answers were the same. Exactly the same. As if she were had memorized them from a script. My hands broke out in a sweat.



It left me wondering about the whole thing. Had they really done things to my wife, or was the model on the stage just a double designed to torture me emotionally? Reality is all about perception, and either way, the reality they had created for me last night was very effective in tearing my emotions to shreds. I didn’t know if I would ever know the truth. Tara’s punishment seemed extreme, but there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it. I was a nervous wreck over the prospect of what might have happened to my wife, and didn’t know if I should cry, or drive down to Baum and Dietrich and kill the lot of them. Both options were on the table.



My only condolence was that my seven weeks of hell were now over.



* * * * * * * * * *



Friday, June 28th



I called in sick today, and not just because of the pain that still coursed threw my genitals. I was developing a nice purple bruise in the shape of a ring, but that wasn’t the main reason for my absence.



A quick drive-through breakfast in hand, I sat in the parking lot outside of the Twighlight Zone. I have no idea what I expected to see or to find. But some part of me, some noble and forthright part of me, said that I had to do something about the way my wife was treated, if indeed it had been her. After four hours, a nice policeman tapped on my window and informed me that I would have to leave. I vowed to myself to find another way.



I registered to buy a handgun. The paperwork should go through by next Tuesday, and by that afternoon I would be enacting my right as a proud American to own and possess a firearm.



* * * * * * * * * *



Saturday, June 29th







My wife had run off to the store, and I was outside doing yard work when I found the box. Inside was the black leather outfit; boots, shorts with the interior and exterior dildoes, bustier, gloves, stockings, even the hood. It was accompanied by a DVD entitled, ‘Model Cum-Suckers’, and a copy of the Twighlight Zone catalog. I ran inside, dropped the box on the floor, and put the DVD in the player. Scenes flashed by: me in the limo, at the store, and watching the runway. The figure on the runway that I thought was my wife in leather, and then the fellatio scene. More followed; the same woman wore different costumes and performed different sex acts as a man and a woman, with a man or men, or women. She was in about every third display. In all of them her face was covered, and I could see nothing that would allow me to confirm or deny her identity. The last scene was in a private dressing room. In it, they took off her hood, only to cover her face with a black dot and a giant white question mark. The DVD ended, and the screen went blank.



I had spent the last few days convincing myself that it wasn’t her that night, and now all the doubt was again fresh in my mind.



I sat there for a few minutes, alone with my thoughts and doubts, when a noise startled me. “What’s this?” I jumped at the voice. My wife stood behind me, gingerly holding at arms length the dildo pants. I must have dropped them on my way through the door.



I blushed bright red. “I found it outside while I was doing some work. It must have been one of the local kids disposing of their toys. I must have dropped it on my way to the garbage.”



“Look Alan, I know our sex life hasn’t been great lately and could use a little spicing up, but this is a little extreme. Do something with it. Like, burn it.” She dropped it back onto the closed lid of the box and walked into the kitchen. I heard her mutter, ” ‘I found it outside’. Yeah, right.”



From the kitchen, she called out, “a dinner and a movie would be more effective if you wanted to get me in the mood.” Ah, the most subtle of hints.



I did do something with the pants, as well as the rest of the box. It all got locked in my now-crowded drawer with all the other items. Maybe one day she would wear it for me. Maybe.







* * * * * * * * * *



Sunday, June 30th



My personal Hell returned as when I found a pretty envelope, with my name on it it in gold script, inside the Sunday paper this morning. The invitation card inside was simple but elegant (and expensive) cream stock with more gold lettering.



‘Your presence is required on Wednesday, July 3rd,



for a consolation performance due to a poor response



exhibited on your part on June 26th. If you decide



not to attend, another will be chosen to take your place.’



The implications were obvious. It was going to be me or my wife for one more night, and it was my decision. I wasn’t being physically forced to do anything this time; the pain ring Tara had used was no longer in place. I reviewed my few options; I could ignore the card and pretend I never got it, and hope nothing ever happened in retribution. I could go down to the local police station and try to convince them I was in trouble by telling them my whole bizarre story. I could get a shotgun and take out as many of them as I could before I was shot. I could take my wife and run for the hills.

But I knew that they would find us, find me, and somehow make me fulfill my forced obligation. I nearly feinted right there.



* * * * * * * * * *



Tuesday, July 2nd



This evening I picked out a nice 9mm automatic. I went through half a box of ammunition testing it out in the store’s gun range. By the time I was finished, I was a fair shot at anything within ten feet. That would be more than enough.



Wednesday, July 3rd







According to what I had been told, this would be my last night of my sentence. I had been under that impression before, though. I looked at black leather bag staring out at me from the closet. One more night and I would be free of the sadistic little artist and her friends. This morning I had found their delivery hanging from my rearview mirror. I hid it in the trunk, and got it inside when I got home from work.



My hands shook as I pulled the large bag out, unzippered it and started taking out the contents.



First was the controller she had shown me what seemed to be an eternity ago. A marked numeric keypad, a red enter button, and eight other buttons that I had started to learn the functions of but was afraid (with good cause) to fool around with. Next came a white mask without cutouts for eyes, nose or mouth. A pair of rubber gloves. A shoulder length bleached blonde wig, in soft curls. A small box containing false fingernails, a tube of the sealant, silver hoop earrings at least an inch in diameter, a small black butt plug, a thick black leather collar with spikes on it, a pair of silicon type falsies, and what looked to be a condom. I knew better.



It was obvious that tonight I was going to be dressed as a woman of some sort.



At the bottom of the bag I found two clothes boxes. In the first was a pair of crotchless black leather panties, a pair of elbow length black leather gloves, and a lightly boned black leather and satin corset with half-cup bra support. In the other box was a black leather mini-dress that would probably just cover my rear end, stockings, and calf-high black leather boots with what looked to be at least five-inch heels. The panties, corset, gloves, and boots all had a semi-shiny material on the inside that I could only presume to be VRSKIN; the catalog from the week before had confirmed my guess at a name for the stuff.



Yup, I was going to be a woman for at least part of the night. I am not a body builder, but I didn’t think there was any way I could pass for a woman. Of course, two months ago I would never have thought that I would masturbate in front of an aerobics class, or screamed to have a devil woman fuck me in the ass, or even dressed up and treated like a horse, so I moved the ‘turned into a woman’ from the ‘definitely not’ column to the ‘probably’ column in my head.



The directions for dressing were slightly different. I was too enter my code after putting on each item, and to do so in a specific order.



As I looked at the items I resigned myself to my fate. One last night of their kinky weirdness and I would have my life back. I hoped. I squeezed some of the lubricant into my hand and began rubbing it over my entire body. Tara’s instructions from that first night echoed through my head as I massaged the goop into my hair. I was certainly used to shaving the rest of my body now. When I finished, I put on the pair of rubber gloves and clicked my code into the controller. 30 seconds and counting.



I stimulated myself into a hearty erection, not difficult when you consider it was nearly erect just from seeing the clothing, then began to roll the condom object on, all while wondering what they were going to do to my cock this time. The controller began to hum, then let out a BEEP. Immediately I felt a tingling sensation as my cock expanded and elongated to its new size. An inch and a half thick and eight inches long. I thought that I better not get a full erection with that dress on. I hit the enter button again. The panties slid up my legs and over my cock and balls, which I pulled through the hole in front. There was also a hole over my asshole, which would be filled in a minute. For a moment I wondered, ‘why have panties at all if you are going to put holes in the parts that should really be covering things up?’



I held the falsies up to my chest, making sure to center my nipples in the little indentations just as Tara had done to me that first night, then waited for the controller to catch up. After a few seconds I heard the hum and BEEP, and the breasts now became one with my flesh while they expanded to a nice b-cup size. I marveled at the sensations my breasts were giving me and almost forgot about the controller. I picked up the corset and wrapped it around me. Instead of the normal draw string arrangement, this one was split up the front. On one side were a multitude of little arrow shapes, and on the other a series of matching holes. I got the idea and started to snap the arrows into place, which left no trace of a seam on the corset anywhere. Hanging from the back of the corset was a long strap. I lubricated the small butt plug, ran the strap through the slot on the bottom, and pushed it through the hole in the panties and into my anus. From that point the strap split into two parts which came up on either side of my cock and locked in place at the bottom of the corset using the same arrow and hole connectors.



The stockings were next, and also connected to the corset at thirty-six different points around my leg, effectively making the corset one with the stockings. The boots were a little awkward to put on, and again were closed with the arrow connectors.



The earrings snapped into the holes created recently by the dominatrix.



I was really apprehensive about the mask. I didn’t see any breathing holes and couldn’t figure out what it was for, but mine was not to wonder why. I covered my face in the goop and held my breathe as I pressed the mask to my face. I heard the remote hum and beep, but the mask came off in my hands, and I was a little confused. I put the mask down on the nightstand, and proceeded to the next step. Maybe I was missing something.



I positioned the wig on my head (the little ‘front’ written on the inside helped me a lot) and hit the enter button again. In a moment I had long curly blonde hair. Per the instructions, the rubber gloves now came off. The bright red nails were as easy to put on, but I couldn’t figure out why I needed nails when I would be putting gloves on again, until I actually slid on the leather gloves. When my fingers reached the ends of the tips the nails passed through, making it look as if the gloves themselves had nails. With the prosthetics taken care of, I began to calm down a little. The collar was the last bit before the dress. It was snug but not uncomfortable, and again connected with the arrows to make a seamless circle. I sat down on the edge of the bed when I heard the controller begin to hum again. Frantically I looked through the bag to see if I had missed anything.



It was empty.



BEEP.



The corset contracted a little, forcing the breath from my lungs, and the gloves, boots, and collar all became completely snug. A strange kneading and twisting sensation started on my nipples. Not my idea of comfort, but I could live with it. I grabbed the dress and pulled it up over my legs and rear, and quickly pushed my arms through and zipped it up.



How women ever learn to do that without a hangar to help them, I will never know.



The dress was shorter than I thought, barely to a spot above my knees, and amplified the small amount of cleavage that I had recently acquired. I picked up the controller (per instructions) and my car keys then headed out. As I passed the bathroom, curiosity got the better of me, and I stepped in for a peek.



Before me stood a six-foot-eight (in heels) black leather bitch, bright red lipstick to match her nails and a slightly over-done make-up job. I knew now what the mask was for. If I looked real hard, I could discern traces of my own male self underneath, but Tara had effectively accomplished her goal. Right down to the choker, which did a good job of hiding my Adam’s apple. I moved the ‘turned into a woman’ from ‘probable’ to ‘definite’. One last night of these indignities, I kept telling myself. One last night of humiliation. I headed down stairs, grabbed one of my wife’s old purses (that I felt matched my new outfit) from the pile in the coat closet, and stuffed the controller, my wallet, and my gun inside, and got into my car.



I was two blocks from my own driveway and I started to panic when I first heard the hum. BEEP. Several things happened at once: the corset contracted again and the boning stiffened, forcing me into a severe upright position as it pushed the breath from my lungs, while the strap holding the now larger butt plug tightened, driving it further into my ass. My breasts enlarged to a c-cup, and the half-inch nipples, which now alternated between getting a gentle caressed and a hard pinch, strained to break through the dress. Even my cock thickened as it got longer. Luckily, there was no cross traffic as the surprise of the action caused me to run through a stop.



When the next BEEP came I was almost to my destination. My chest went past a d-cup, and the corset had pulled even tighter, driving the now dildo sized plug even deeper. My normal thirty-two inch waist line must have been down to at least twenty-seven, and the tip of the massive cock dangled out of the bottom of the dress.



‘Traitor’ sent some sensations up to my brain, and I have to admit I wondered what it would be like to hold it in my hands. He ached to be caressed. The toes of my boots had bent downwards so that I might walk only if it was tippy-toed on the six inch heels.



Ballet boots, they were called. Yes, I know what they are. I did look through the Twighlight Zone catalog once or twice. Or three times. So now I knew a lot more about what they sold in that store. It wasn’t like I was in the bathroom masturbating or anything. Research purposes only, I assure you.



I grabbed the purse and my car keys and rushed as well as I could to the house when I realized that the boots had gone solid. I was no longer able to bend my knees, and if I thought walking was hard before, it was now nearly impossible. Being extra top heavy and trying to walk in those boots wasn’t easy, but I knew I couldn’t have taken the boots off now even if I had the time or the will. The door to the basement opened before me and I stumbled into the darkness.







“Stand where you are, Alan. I wasn’t finished with you last time, and I had to pay for a second night. You owe me.” When the voice came out of the darkness, I knew I was in deeper trouble than I had suspected. It was heavy and electronic and came from all around me, probably from hidden speakers: a woman’s voice mutated through high-tech means. I was almost positive it was Mistress Jackie, the woman from my last excursion. I added that ‘Mistress’ part on my own, because there was something about her that far surpassed the nature of the dominatrix I had dealt with.



I reached out blindly, hoping to touch something that might keep me from falling, but met with nothing.



A blue light started to fill the chamber, and I saw around me the makings of a medieval torture chamber warped into somebody’s living quarters. The walls were covered in floor to ceiling mirrors. On the wall to my left was a huge wardrobe, both doors shut. The wall to my right had a large x-frame rack, currently empty. But the oddest thing was directly across from me; a wrought iron-framed king size bed on which sat the evening’s mistress.



She was dressed similarly to me in some ways; high-heeled boots, stockings, corset, and gloves, but hers were all done in a matching zebra stripe skin pattern. I had flashbacks: I remembered her from the first of my seven (now eight) nights under Tara’s control. She had grabbed my erect cock and given it a nasty twist as she walked by. I thought that she was also the lady from the week before; the dress she had worn then had a zebra skin pattern to it. I wasn’t too dense that I couldn’t put it all together. Well, that and the fact that she had just told me so.



Even in comparison to all I had been through, this knowledge of her payment for a second night with me sent a shiver of real fear down my spine as I took in the rest of her costume. Her head was encased in full hood, also in zebra stripes, which covered her mouth and eyes with a metallic screen that gave her a very faceless alien look, and her long blonde hair streamed out of a topknot hole in the back. What really blew my mind was her body; if it were real (which I doubted) she had d-cup breasts that defied gravity and a waist and hips that I had only dreamed about.



Well, dreamed about until I had been given a matching figure.



Whoever had done the research on my libido had hit the bulls-eye on this one, and my enhanced cock did it’s best to lift the front of my dress as it sprang to a rock hardness. For some stupid reason, I wondered if she were still upset about last week’s disruption at the fashion show.



The blue light gradually got stronger as she got up off the bed. “So, the Art Critic likes wearing leather and has a horse dick,” the voice said from all around me. I was pretty sure that it was the person in front of me talking, because the jaw movements matched the sounds around me. But the new metallic neutrality was already getting on my nerves. “Which is good, because I like a man who is hung like a horse. Or should I say a woman who is hung the way a man should be. Maybe I shouldn’t remind you of your little escapade as a horse, though, and get on with business.” My thoughts snapped back to my stint as a ponyboy, and then my ‘Night in Hell’ – neither seemed to compare to what was happening to me now. “You’ve had some fun these past weeks, and this will be your last night in this program, so I’ll have to make worth the price.”



I broke the unspoken rule, and blurted out, “worth the pr…?”, only the words came out of my mouth were in somebody else’s voice. It was higher and yet huskier. Definitely not mine. More like a woman’s.



“That would be the collar. Nice effect, eh? If you are going to dress and act like a woman, you should sound like one, too.” She lifted a remote that looked remarkably like the one in my possession. She idly tapped a finger on her face, where lips would be if she had them. “Let’s see. Eleven inches of cock, check. Forty double-D tits, check. Silkskin dildo buttplug, six inches, check. Beautiful long blonde hair and a pair of pouty lips that look like they want nothing more than to give oral satisfaction. All wrapped up in a black leather package. Check”



Through all of this, it had never dawned on me why these people did the things they did to me. But the description of me that she had just rifled off, with the exception of the whole ‘cock’ part, fit to a ‘T’ half the downloaded porn I had on my computer. I moved my purse in front of me. It was almost do-or-die time.



“Alan, I always wanted to experiment with a she-male lover, and now I have one made to my specifications. If you’re any good, I might I’ll keep you for myself. Would you like that?” Her voice almost purred through the speakers. Another shiver of fear ran down my spine.



“Put down your things, and come over here.”



I slipped my hand inside the purse, and drew out my automatic. I have never been a violent man, and I shook a little as I pointed the weapon at the woman in front of my. I wished I could see her face so that I could gauge her reaction. “No. No more of this.”



“Are you really going to shoot me, Alan? I don’ think you are the type. Besides, you need to bend your fingers to shoot.” A single button press on the remote, and my gloves turned to rock. She deftly removed the pistol from my grasp, and backed away again. My hands were released.



“As I said before, move to the center of the room.”



I did as she said, and moved to the center of the room. She pressed a few buttons on her remote, and the floor in front of me opened up. A black leather-covered tumbling horse, seven feet long, rose out of the floor and locked in place just below waist height. On top were two little chains with clips on the end, and from either end were straps with web type restraints attached. “Put the clips on.”



I reached down and picked up one of the clips. The chain was not connected to the other clip, but instead went into a hole in the horse. I pulled down the front of my dress and attached the clip to my new nipple, and pain shot through my body. I then attached the other one for the same effect.



“Now the manacles.”



Once again, I lost the battle.



I wrapped the restraints on and fixed them in place, and she pressed another button. Immediately the straps retracted into the ends of the horse, pulling my arms apart and forcing me to my to bend over painfully. The chains retracted into the horse, forcing my chest even further into the horse. In a few seconds I went from standing free to kissing the leather in front of me.



Jackie walked around behind me, and the click of her heels echoed through the chamber. “Have you enjoyed your little escapades, Alan? Do you like the clothes, the women, your big dick? Have you enjoyed the kinky adventures every week, while your wife lives in ignorance? Maybe I should train her, too, and then the two of you could be a matched set. Would you like to watch while I fucked her into submission, or would you prefer her see her husband subjected to sexual torment as a she-male whore?”



I could feel the anger rise in me again, this time even stronger. I should have just shot her when I had the chance. There was a momentary pause, but I wasn’t stupid enough to reply.



“Of course, If you were mine, you wouldn’t have to go to work. We would fuck and suck all day long. You would be my little sex slave to dress and torment as I pleased. I would punish you when you were bad, pleasure you when you were good. Maybe you like being a bad boy. Well Mr. O’Neill, bad boys get spanked. Would you like to be spanked?” She pulled the dress up to my hips, exposing my dildo filled ass, and began to hit my ass cheeks with her open hand. The strokes were hard and strong, and it took all my will not to jerk forward or cry out when she hit me.



As she spanked, she again asked me, ” Have you liked your little escapades?”



I knew the game, and how to answer. “Yes, Mistress Jackie.”



She looked at me for a moment. “Alan, What is your wife’s name? Jenny?”



“Uh, Jenna, Mistress Jackie.”



There was an evil chuckle that echoed throughout the room. “Then I want you to refer to me as ‘Mistress Jenna’ from now on. Perhaps if you thought a little more about your wife, you wouldn’t be where you are now.”



That little statement made my bad situation ten times worse. I don’t know which was greater, my guilt or my anger.



“Are you a bad boy?”



“Yes, Mistress Jac..Mistress Jenna.” The words were like dust coming out of my mouth.



“Wrong answer, Alan. It’s obvious you are not a boy, isn’t it? Boys don’t have dicks like you have, do they?”



“No, Mistress Jenna.” The name was not getting easier to say.



“And you aren’t really ‘bad’, are you? I would call you a whore, but you don’t get paid for sex. You have become more of a slut. Do you agree that you are a slut, Alan?”



“Yes, Mistress.”



“And the way you talk, with the ‘yes, Mistress’ and the ‘no, Mistress’ gives me the impression that you like it when women control you. You’ve learned that, deep down, you really are a submissive. That makes you pussy whipped, doesn’t it?” I hadn’t even realized that I had started calling her mistress until she pointed it out.



It just got deeper and deeper, and I just kept going along with it. I didn’t know if this was my hell or my heaven.

“Yes Mistress Jenna.”



“Do you like being a horse-dicked she-male sex-slut pussy-whipped slave?”



I actually gave this one a pause. “I don’t know.”



The slap on my ass was hard and very painful, and was followed by another on the other cheek. “Try again! Do you like being a horse-dicked she-male sex-slut pussy-whipped slave?”



“Yes, Mistress Jenna.” Utter defeat could be heard in my altered voice. Even so, I almost laughed at the fact that she could say that last sentence without getting toungue-tied.



“It is good that you have accepted your fate. I think ‘Alan’ is a man’s name, though, and you just admitted you are no longer a man. You are more like Alice, who stuck her head in a dark hole, looking for some tail, and ended up having an adventure. I don’t want you to answer this next question just yet, Alice, but I do want you to think about it. What are you going to do with your sex life after tonight?”



That one stunned me more than anything else I had been asked. What *would* I do, after all I had been through? I had some time to think about it, as she made my ass warm and rose pink with continued spanks.



After about thirty more smacks, none of which caused me any real discomfort, she walked around in front of me again. “Not much of a reaction from you, Alice. Maybe your experience should be a little more…severe.” She pressed another button on her remote, and another mirrored door opened up. From the opening on my left stepped a female dressed head to toe in a VRskin body suit, black in color at her feet but fading to white at her head. Her black hair was pulled through a hole in the top of the mask covering her head. Mirrored sunglasses on a stretch strap were pulled tight over where her eyes should be. The only exposed flesh that I could see were a set of bright red lips.



She moved to the center of the room, stopped in front of me so that I might better see her, and then turned to face the zebra woman. “Alice, since you so enjoyed the sexual release you have been getting, I’ve decided to give you a chance to experience our ultimate blow job. This is my helper for the night and she will get the two of us ready.”



The black haired woman padded over to the wardrobe, opened it, and took out a wooden box about a foot long. Mistress Jackie opened the box and took out a tube of the gel with which I had become so familiar. Squeezing a generous portion into her hand, she put the tube back into the box. and proceeded to apply generous amounts to her own crotch and the crotches of her assistant.



The helper then took something from the box and with both hands pressed it to the front of the zebra woman, and the pair turned to face me. ‘Traitor’ had once agian lived up to his name, and I had sported a raging hard-on from watching these two walk around. He nearly went totally limp when I saw what was now attached to the zebra woman; eight inches of rock-hard zebra stripped cock, pointed at me from across the room. A sinister laugh began to fill my ears from the speakers around the room.



“Well little girl, see what dressing like a leather slut gets you?” She motioned to her helper, who moved behind me. She grabbed my hips, lifted the hem of my dress, and pulled herself tightly into my ass. After positioning herself just right, she began to grind her pelvis into the base of the dildo that filled my anus.



The laughter started again, and I heard Mistress Jenna press a few buttons on the remote. As the humming started, I felt a hand wrap itself around my huge cock while the woman behind me ground into my ass even harder. BEEP. The cock on the zebra woman sprang to life, and from my genitals I started to get a very strange sensation. The assistant was now evidently attached to the dildo in my ass and to me because of the straps running through it and around me, and began to fuck me with a slow rhythm. Her hand quickly set up a synchronized rhythm, stroking my cock to pull out an orgasm while she tried to push another from my prostrate by fucking my ass. I could feel myself building towards orgasm, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen.



Mistress Jenna walked in front of me, with the cock slapping obscenely against her legs. I felt my fear rise. “Ask for it nicely, slut. Tell me you want to suck my cock. And when I give you permission, when I say I will *let* you suck my cock, I want you to suck it like you want your wife to suck yours. You are going to be the slut wife of your own dreams, Alice. I want you to worship this thick cock the way you’ve always wanted your’s worshipped. Now, TELL ME YOU WANT TO SUCK MY COCK!” The mechanical voice reverberated throughout the room, it’s echoes fading so the only sound was the grunts from my ass-fucker and the slurps from my cock-sucker.



I knew I had lost. Whatever shred of dignity I might have clung to after the past weeks faded away completely. My voice came out high and womanly due to the collar. “I want to suck your cock.”



“No, Alice, that isn’t how a slut wife says it. She can’t get enough cock. Say it like a good slut wife would. Say it like there is nothing else in the world that matters more than sucking my cock, my little wife. Tell your husband his wife wants to suck his cock.” She moved closer, and the cock bobbed an inch in front of my lips.



Of all the women I had encountered in the past few weeks she was probably the craziest. I could here the hysteria in her voice. “Give me your thick cock…, husband. I want to be your wife, and I want to suck your cock.” I said it matter-of-factly, with no passion. They could force me to do a lot of things, but they couldn’t force me to like it. “I want to suck it, to kiss it to experience it. I…I want it. I…I…” In a quick motion I bobbed forward, taking the phallus in my mouth, swirling my tongue over the glans, sucking as though I knew nothing else. I bobbed my head up and down, sucking all the while, doing to the zebra-woman what I wanted done to me. Evidently, there were some nerve connections feeding the experience back to her, because she let out a surprised but pleasured gasp as I did so.



I pulled off. Despite my situation, I was still sarcastic. “Happy now?”



The craziness was gone. Her voice, or at least the version I heard, was level and calm. It took the fear level up yet another notch. “Yes, a little. But you forgot to say my name. And I never said for you to stop, did I, *wife*?”



She waited for me to answer.



“No, Mistress Jenna, you didn’t.” Using my wife’s name was still no easier. In fact, it made it a lot worse.



“Then ask again, nicely.”



I thought I couldn’t get any lower but the words that formed in my mouth brought forth an unbidden image of my wife to my mind.



“Please, Mistress Jenna, let me suck your cock.”



Her left hand came to rest on the back of my head and pulled me back in place, gently helping the motion of my head as I was forced to felate the phallus. Below and behind me, the other woman had worked my body into a frenzy. My whole body started to go numb, and I knew I was going to come regardless of the prosthetics. I heard the soft tap of the buttons as the woman behind me approached orgasm. I looked up at the zebra woman, and could feel her evil smile even through the mask.







“That’s it baby. Yeah, suck it. Oh yeah.” Her comments sounded like those in a bad porn movie. “Oh god, yes. Oh yeah baby, suck me. I’m gonna cum. Yes, suck me. Yes. Yes! YES!” The phallus in my mouth started to convulse, and she drove my head down further on the shaft. In what I can only call an explosion, the cock began to spurt cum down my throat, and as she backed up, it filled my now gagging mouth. “Swallow what you can, wifey. It took us the past seven weeks to collect all this cum from you.”



She was laughing; I tried to swallow it all but couldn’t, and zebra woman backed up another step as my own cum shot at me in huge gobs, propelled from the phallus like a real cock to splatter all over my face and hair. A minute later I felt the woman behind me shudder for a full two minutes as her grinding brought her to an orgasm.



BEEP, and she was able to pull away from my ass, but the butt plug remained. She grabbed my shoulders and pulled up, and the straps holding my arms released from the horse. The black haired woman let go of ‘traitor’ moments before orgasm, and I knew frustration of denial once again.



“Now lick me clean, my little slut.” I did as I was told, hoping to the powers above that my degradation would now be over. When I could draw no more from her dildo-cock, she let go and slumped to the floor. I could sink no lower.



“Now get my new slut-wife out of here.” The assistant slipped under my arm, and helped me from the dungeon. She unceremoniously dumped me in my car and dropped the purse, gun, and controller, along with a handful of twenties.



I could hear her snicker as she closed the car door. “That’s for services rendered tonight. Better hurry, whore. Wifey should be home soon, and you don’t want to be late. Consider your obligation fulfilled.”



Once I noted that the clip had been removed from my pistol, I jammed the car in gear. My tires spun as I pulled out of the driveway.



* * * * * * * * * *



I made it nearly halfway home when my low gas indicator came on. I wouldn’t have enough gas to get home, which was odd because I had filled the tank just yesterday. I pulled into the local mini-mart, hobbled my way to the cashier, and shoved one of the twenties at the gape-jawed clerk. “Pump five.” He stared wide-eyed at me, and slowly pulled in the twenty. I got out of there quick, and raced home.



I pulled into my driveway and nearly rammed into the garage door because I was having trouble with the brakes. The toe-down ballet-style boots made the drive all but impossible. I clicked off the ignition and grabbed the controller. Best to get inside before I started to disrobe. I got out of the car and stumbled to the house. My aching feet and dildo filled ass made walking very difficult now. I had barely gotten the door open when I saw headlights turn into the driveway.



I rushed inside, grabbed the handrail and pulled myself upstairs to the master bathroom, where I stopped and locked myself inside. I turned on the shower and breathed a sigh of relief. My wife came in downstairs, and I heard her putter around for a moment.



In the bathroom I was met with an unusual sight. The reflection in the mirror showed a leather-clad slut, dried cum around her mouth and in her hair and all over her face, make-up mussed, who looked (and smelled) like she had just undergone a couple of intense fuck sessions. One thing didn’t fit, and that was the head of an eleven inch dick dangling out of the bottom of her skirt. No wonder the clerk at the gas station had given me such a strange look.



* * * * * * * * * *



But I had done it. I had survived Tara’s Wednesday nights of terror. I was a free man. Well,, sort of. For the first time, I had been let go without being released from my ‘additions’. I started to sweat profusely (again) inside my ‘costume’.



* * * * * * * * * *



I undid the dress, and did my best to get out of it, finally dropping it to the floor. Of course, I lost my balance in those stupid boots and fell over myself. The dress off, I picked up the controller and took a seat on the toilet, which pushed the now familiar-feeling dildo further into my sore ass. My huge cock started to spring to life again. I had yet to have any relief for all the teasing I had undergone.



“Honey? Is that you?” My wife’s voice was close; the shower I had turned on had masked her approach.



“Who…” My woman’s voice cracked. I tried dropping it a few octaves, and it almost sounded normal. “Who else would it be, dear?”



“I’ve got the most incredible news! I did it. I mean, we did it! The lottery! I figure we hit fro nearly twenty million after taxes, if we cash out! Twenty million! I tried getting you at the gym, but they said you weren’t there. I called the realtor, and confirmed a buy on that house we were looking at and then went shopping and I bought some things and I hope you’re not upset with me.” I could hear the excitement in her voice as it all bubbled forth. Her sentences came out in a staccato, with barely a breath in-between.



Meanwhile, I was trying to get out of my predicament. I tapped the release code into the controller, and waited. BEEP. Immediately, the dildo in my ass started to vibrate, and my cock began to really harden. Wrong code! I tapped it in again, taking a little more time to make sure I got it in correctly.



BEEP. The corset shrunk again while my bust expanded, and the sudden change in weight distribution made me topple off the toilet. I tried to suck air into my constricted lungs. Outside, my wife kept up her verbal torrent.



“I went shopping with that nice lady Tara; you remember, the one from last week? I happened to meet her this afternoon at the first store I went to, so we made a day of it. I got some new clothes and I got this picture you just have to see…Honey, did you fall? Are you okay? Honey, do you need help?”



“No!” I had a hard time keeping my voice masculine. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. You can show me then.”



“Imagine it! We’ll never have to work again. We can lounge about our house, and do whatever we want all day long!”



‘Traitor’ now stood rock-hard a full eleven inches from my body, and my already sore ass was going numb from the vibrator inside. My nipples ached. I fumbled for the control, which had slid behind the toilet when I let go during my fall.



“Honey? There is one thing I bought I really think you should know about.”



I was having a very difficult time concentrating on anything she was saying. I just wanted out! “Um, what’s that, dear?”



There was a little rattle from the door handle, and I froze in terror as I watched the thumb-turn on the bathroom lock slowly turn, indicating the use of a key to unlock the door. The door swung wide, pushed open by a gloved hand. Before me stood the zebra woman, bug mask gone to reveal my wife’s face. In one hand she held a 3 foot by 4 foot matted and framed picture of me as a woman, my mouth wide open and filled with cum, a huge zebra cock shooting more cum on my face and in my hair.



“I bought new codes for your controller, wifey, when I renewed my sorority membership. Now, bring that horse cock of yours out here where I can properly fuck it. Maybe later we can watch some of your movies, and you can tell me how much you’ve enjoyed the past few weeks”



* * * * * * * * * *



Epilogue – Wednesday, July 10th







I lay on the silk sheets that covered our master bed, and stared up at my reflection in the mirror above me. Pre-cum from my thick ten inch long cock pool has pooled in my belly button. My feet are locked in spike heeled boots which are in turn locked in the stocks which make up our bed’s footboard. My hands are encased in leather mittens, and locked in the stocks that are our headboard. Around my twenty-six inch waist is a heavily boned leather corset which supports my double-D cup breasts, and the whole costume is done in the zebra skin which denotes the clan my wife controls in the society. The clan I now belong to. My bright red lips are wrapped around the rubber ball gag stuffed in my mouth.



I can’t remember when she last let me be just me. Hell, I can’t remember what is actually me.



My wife came out of the bathroom, dressed in a zebra stripped leather and fur cat suit, and lifted my cock to her mouth. “I’m so glad you’ve accepted our new life. I missed my sorority sisters so much, and now we’re all together again. I am sorry about the show; but at the time I thought you needed to be taught some humility. I was beginning to think you’d leave me for a life with the other girls.” My shaft slid between her lips into her hot wet mouth, and she began to suck and lick. She paused, and looked me in the eyes. “Let me know when I have served sufficient penance for my lapse in judgment.” She went back to town on my cock again, hitting every special nerve ending like she had designed the layout herself. After a few minutes of tease and denial, she pulled back.



“Do you mind if I have some of my old friends over tonight, honey? Tara says she has some new ideas she wants to try out, and you can be *so* accommodating.” She swirled her tongue around the head of my cock, the took it in and sucked on in a moment longer before again releasing it. “After all, I know how you like something a little kinkier than what we normally do. Then we could go over to the Twighlight Zone, and I could show off my new personal servant. No objections? I just knew you wouldn’t mind.” She turned on the vibrator in my ass and finished yet another fantastic blow job.



* * * * * * * * * *



Addendum – the following May







I don’t know what to think of the changes in my life. The first few months with my wife in our new life seemed to be nothing but opportunities for me, both at work (which I continued to go to), and in our marital relationship. We limit the full blown ‘costuming’ to once every two weeks, but often put each other into bondage or kinky clothes during the week. We’ve both learned to explore our sexual needs and fantasies more, but have agreed to keep the relationship monogamous. Why? Seems the entire model/runway scene was her way of getting back at me when she thought I was having too much fun with the husband training.



Yes, husband training. Like we all didn’t figure it out.



She had wanted a little revenge, but realized too late just how much it had hurt me. It had been her next to me, as Jackie, with one of the models portraying herself on the stage. Between her enhanced figure, the mask, and a small device to modulate her voice slightly, I never realized who she was. It had also been her on that first night, when she gave me a subtle reminder that my cock actually belonged to her.



With the exception of one of the women in the upper circle of the sorority, all did nothing more for my sexual release than a handjob, and those were all essential to completing the final night’s scenario. As for the devilish Mistress Suzanne, the one that decided to take things a little further, well, let’s just say that the story of her penance is best left told by another.



As I said, our sex life couldn’t be better. Between the money and my ‘awakening’, coupled with her reconnection with Tara and crew, our life has improved a lot. Our love (and love life) has grown stronger than I thought possible.



Oh yeah, the money. In case you hadn’t noticed, we were never listed on television or in the newspapers as winners. The money that we got was part of a shared trust fund from the first graduating class from my wife’s sorority. The others had been spending it as they went along, but my wife’s little nestegg had been rolling over and over in offshore accounts under the guidance of some talented accountants at Baum Dietrich. When she became an active member again, the funds became available again. We are using part of it to help pay off some loans occurred educating my nephew Jerry.



* * * * * * * * * *



When we are at social functions, I play the role I came to learn over those two months: a well trained submissive husband. It really isn’t that difficult, and I have seen a lot of benefits from it. I would add ‘loving’ to that sentence, but it was there before the training. My wife and I are still equal partners in our relationship, with both contributing 100%, but the dictates of the society require her to take the lead. I’ve accepted my status as her ‘personal servitor’ within the organization, and have learned quite a bit because of it.



One thing has been nagging at me though, and that is a few fantasies I have that weren’t touched upon during my training. When I think about it, I learned a lot about myself: what my limits are, what turns me on, and that pleasure in a sexual context can be enjoyable from a submissive position. What I was missing was a scene with me as the dominant. Make that ‘scenes’, with my wife as the submissive. Maybe it should be my wife who takes a course in pleasing men, with me as the instructor in each scene. Of course, I wouldn’t allow any other man (or woman) to have my wife sexually. Despite what happened to me, I am far too jealous of her, and she loves me all the more for it. But I think I can figure something out.

Things were becoming routine for John in his new relationship with Miss Sarah. He found at times it was almost easier having her tell him when he could and could not pleasure himself. The build up to the release was almost becoming more important to him than the release itself. His sense of self at the time of release was completely washed away and all that was left was his adoration for Miss Sarah. During the times when she would merely assign him things to do for her he knew he was working towards something and felt more comfortable realizing his identity. The only thing more shocking to him is how much he enjoyed being at Miss Sarah’s beck and call. It was so pleasurable doing nice things for her and making her life easier. Seeing her smile and hearing her laugh made him very happy.



One night as John worked away Sarah sat at her desk in a short black skirt. Her legs were crossed and encased in black patterned stockings. Her short sleeved white blouse was buttoned up to a point where only a slight bit of cleavage was visible, and John was really looking. Sarah smiled as she noticed John looking at her with longing in his eyes. She stared at him seeming to ponder something for a moment before extending her arm and motioning with her indexing finger signaling that he should come to her.



Without hesitation John left his seat and walked over to Sarah’s desk taking position on his knees in front of her. There was no longer a need for Sarah to tell him to kneel. He had been properly conditioned to know what he should do.



With a smile in her eyes she spoke to him,” Oh little Johnny you are coming along so well,” she removed her foot from one of her black heeled shoes and rested it on John’s thigh slowly moving it up and down. “You are enjoying our relationship aren’t you baby?”



John knew how he was supposed to answer and felt a little wave of pleasure wash over him as he answered, “yes Miss Sarah.”



“Oh that’s wonderful baby. I know you are going to need to spurt for me soon baby but before you do,” she reached into her purse and pulled out a large manila envelope and placed it in her lap,” we need to find out if you are truly worthy to be one of my closest slaves.”



John had never heard her call him a slave other than when he was lost in his own arousal. He found another tingle of pleasure in being recognized by her as such.



“Little Johnny I want you to take this envelope home with you tonight. Do not open it until you get home. Once you find what is inside and read the instructions you may not speak to me again until you have made your decision.” John felt dismay at thinking he would be without interaction with Miss Sarah and it apparently showed in his face,” now don’t worry sweetie. Whatever your decision you can still worship me just as you have been, but that will be as far as this will go.” Sarah’s foot moved up to his rigid cock and began to slowly slide up and down,” but if you choose wisely baby,” her voice dropping to a more sultry tone,” then there will be no end to the pleasure I can give you.”



John’s whole body jerked at her last comment and he tightened his body trying to keep the impending orgasm from overtaking him without Miss Sarah’s command. Suddenly Sarah’s foot came off John’s cock,” take a deep breath baby, no time for that yet…” Sarah paused,” well no more than that anyway,” she giggled and John looked down to see a wet spot on his pants formed by his own semen.



“Now finish up our work here baby and go home and decide what future you want to have,” Sarah tossed the envelope into John’s lap. Sarah picked up her purse and stood up,” you sleep well baby. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.” With that she walked out of the office as their shift had come to an end though John still had work he needed to finish for the both of them.



The work seemed to take forever as John stared at the envelope on his desk wondering what it held inside. There was something in there other than paper but he could not tell what. He shook his head trying not to dwell on it so he could finish and get home to open it. He thought about just opening it now but he knew if Miss Sarah asked him where he opened it he would not be able to keep the truth from her. She proved to him she had ways of finding out things he did not intend to tell her.



After what seemed like an eternity John finished his work and sped home. The streets were empty at the hour he got off work which made the drive go quickly even if not as quickly as he wished. He walked in the door of his home and flipped on the lights wasting no time in tearing open the envelope. Something black fell out of the envelope and landed on the floor and John looked at it trying to figure out what it was as he pulled out a sheet of paper which was the only thing else the envelope contained. He turned his attention to the sheet of paper which was a note from Miss Sarah:



Little Johnny you have come so far since the first night you realized how much more rewarding it was to serve a strong-willed woman like Me rather than dating those little tramps you were so used to dating. I want you to think right now how much it pleases you to please Me. Do you feel that baby? Yes you do.



John let the conditioned feeling pass over him, his cock tenting in his pants before he continued reading.



Now I am going to ask you to go a little farther. Deep down I know you want this baby. The next step is even more pleasurable. Perhaps you have already found the black, satin panties in the envelope. To go to the next level you need to wear them for Me. It may take a little time for you to decide to do so, but when you do you are once again free to approach Me and let Me know your decision. One choice is full of wonder, pleasure and mystery and the other is your continued servitude, but it is also as intimate as it is going to get. If you choose not to wear the pretty panties then you will never get closer to Me than you are right now.



The note was not even signed, it just ended. John looked down at what he now knew were panties laying on the floor. He bent down to pick them up. The panties were black silk, thin strings were all there was to the sides and the main fabric had a button where the bottom of the crotch was located. He stared at them wondering what Miss Sarah had in mind for him to wear these. He never was much into this kind of stuff and come to think of it he never was into worshiping a co-worker so much he did her work in hopes she would let him pleasure himself. At the moment wearing the panties was a definite no in his mind. He would just have to go in tomorrow and tell her he could not do it. A part of him sank as he reached the decision and decided at the moment what he really needed was some sleep.



Sleep was a long time coming for John and when he woke to his alarm the next morning he found his cock hard and his arousal level high. Most mornings were like that these days since he and Sarah had entered their relationship. John always found a cold shower helped most when his mind got clouded from his own arousal for Sarah.



After his shower he put on his robe and went downstairs to get some breakfast. As he made his way through the living room he saw the panties on the table where he left them the night before. For some reason he found himself stopping as he looked at them. He knew Sarah wanted him to wear them and got lost in thought for a moment thinking about Sarah barely noticing his cock growing hard again. He began to reason they were just panties. They were underwear and some guys did it just to be a little kinky. Why could he not do the same? It really was no big deal. Perhaps he could just try them on to see.



He walked over to the table and picked them up putting one leg in and then the other before pulling the strings up over his hips. They felt tight as they hugged his balls and hard cock. The satin rubbed up against his cock as he walked which only served to increase his arousal. The fabric teased him leaving him wanting. He walked back and forth across the living room enjoying the feeling. He found he wanted more and moved over to walk up the stairs which made the panties rub up against him even more. John continued walking around his house until he noticed a clock on the wall and realized he was running late for work.



In a rush John threw on some clothes and got out of his house to his car as fast as he could. He was just not the same without his morning coffee. He put his keys in the ignition and pulled out of his driveway to speed off to work. It was not until he reached the first traffic light that he remembered he was still wearing the panties. As started thinking about the panties and the feeling of wearing them, his cock started to get hard all over again. The fabric teased him making him squirm a bit in his seat. The soft rubbing sensation was such a tease. He wanted to just come and get it over with but he knew if he did without Sarah’s permission the consequences would not be good. He had not yet cheated but he remembered the night of torment when she had him tied up, laying in his bed while she slowly rubbed his cock to the edge over and over. He shook as he relived the experience in his mind and decided it would be better to just get to work and let Sarah know of his decision.



Walking into the building John caught a glimpse of the clock and was pleased to see he had a couple of minutes to run by the lounge and get a cup of coffee. As he walked in the door of the lounge he saw Sarah sitting at one of the tables sipping on a cup of hot tea. John looked around and saw no one else in the lounge and decided he may as well share his decision with Sarah now.



Sarah final noticed John and smiled at him. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail showing off her beautifully soft featured face. The bright red lipstick made her lips look pouty and full. She was wearing a red, tight short sleeved sweater and blue slacks wither favorite black high heels. John took in her beauty as he went down to one knee in front of her.



Sarah looked down at him and her smile widen to show her teeth as the realization of what John was doing came to her.



“Miss Sarah…” John paused for a moment taking a big swallow,” I have decided to accept.”



“Oh little Johnny that is so wonderful,” her happiness seemed very genuine,” now stand up sweetie.”



John jumped up and felt a bit of relief thinking what it would have looked like if someone walked in noticing him kneeling in front of Sarah. With that thought he turned to look at the door to see if anyone had come in and as he did he felt a tug at his pants and looked down just as Sarah’s hand reached inside his pants. He let out an involuntary gasp as she slowly rubbed her hand over his satin encased member.



“Yesss sweetie,” she softly breathed out,” so eager for me aren’t you?”



John could only nod his head as she continued her ministrations for a few seconds more. “Tonight I am coming home with you and we are going to have some fun. Would you like that?”



“Yes Miss Sarah,” he breathed out.



“That’s a good boy,” and with that statement Sarah withdrew her hand and stood in front of John looking up at him for a brief moment,” try not to think too much about what I am going to do to you while you try and work today,” she softly laughed as she turned and walked out of the room.



That day of worked seemed to last an eternity for John. Every time he had to get up from his desk to go do something the panties would rub up against his cock which Sarah did her best to make sure was hard. She came by his desk several times to ask him questions about different things and drop off some of her work to do and every time she did she would touch him in subtle but tantalizing ways. The simplest task took him forever as he fought hard to keep his concentration. His cock would get hard from his thoughts of Sarah and the panties would rub softly up against his cock. It was a never ending circle of erotic torture.



One time he had to run up stairs to get some paperwork from another department and foolishly decided it would be better to take the stairs up instead of using the elevator to go one floor. As he began his walk up the stairs the friction between his cock and panties became so exaggerated he nearly came. If he had not stopped halfway up to take a few deep breaths he would have lost all control over his orgasm.



Deep down he knew Miss Sarah was keeping his libido revved up all the time to get him to do whatever she wanted. He knew she had him wrapped around her finger and when he thought about it his arousal only seemed to increase. The more she took control and the more helpless he became to her whims the more intense the pleasure seemed to get. It was a vicious circle and he was not sure there was a way out.



The day finally came to a close and Sarah came over to his desk and simply said,” Let’s go,” then walked toward the exit expecting him to follow. John naturally followed her having little choice after spending the whole day imagining all the possibilities that awaited him back at his place with Miss Sarah. He followed her back to his place and practically ran to the door making sure he was holding it open waiting for her to enter.



She walked in the door as if she owned it. John was already coming to accept that she owned him so she may as well own what he owned. She turned to him and smiled as he closed the door,” Why don’t you strip down for me baby but leave the panties on?”



John began to slowly remove his clothes knowing he would only be scolded should he rush. As he slowly disrobed he was taken aback as Miss Sarah slowly shed her pants to reveal her beautiful legs sheathed in black stocking which were held up by matching black garters. Her panties were also black but laced rather than the black satin he wore. John’s cock strained against the panties more than ever before, so much that a small wet spot was forming from the precum leaking from it.



“Now baby start walking slowly up the stairs so I can see your little ass walking in them,” Sarah said with a giggle.



John obliged and started the slow ascent feeling the panties rubbing against him with each step. When he finally reached the top of the stairs he heard Sarah speak again,” stop there baby.”



He heard her moving up behind him before feeling her hands rubbing over his ass,” oh I love them on you little Johnny. Don’t they turn you on soooo much?” she taunted.



“Yes Miss Sarah,” came the expected reply.



Sarah stepped in front of him and his eyes dropped to her legs. He loved garters and stockings on a woman. Nothing seemed to turn him on more and Sarah somehow knew it. Her right hand slowly glided over his satin encased cock. John took a deep, quivering breath.



“Yes sweetie, time for another object lesson. Tonight I’m going to show you how much you really belong to me. You feel it don’t you? You feel me wrapping my will around you. You feel me smothering your free will. Making you want to do whatever I tell you.” Sarah’s hand moved slowly up and down as she spoke. “Now,” Sarah’s hand moved between his legs and unbuttoning the bottom of the panties,” let’s begin.”



She pull the front side of the fabric up freeing his cock to the open air. She then took his hands and lowered them both down to the floor,” just sit right at the edge of the stairs sweetie.”



John sat down as she instructed and put his legs out in front of him. Sarah straddled his upper thighs and he shuddered at the soft feeling of the nylon stockings rubbing up against him. She looked into his eyes and smile as she put her hand to his chest slowly pushing him backwards until his torso was laying inverted on the stairs.



“Mmmm baby, I’m so horny,” she said grabbing his cock and starting to slowly rub it up and down. “This is my cock baby and it’s getting sooo hard,” her hand continued to rub which elicited soft moans from John with every stroke. “Oh you’re horny too, aren’t you sweetie,” John could only nod as Sarah continued to stroke. “You want to stroke my cock baby?”



“Unh yes,” John cried. Sarah began to grind her crotch into John as she stroked him.



“Take it in your hand sweetie, stroke my fucking cock,” Sarah said with force as she started to grind into him more fervently. John reached up and began to stroke while Sarah grinded,” yeah fucking stroke it baby.”



John could feel the orgasm building. The release he was dying for.



“Yes, I’m going to fucking cum baby,” Sarah cried as she ground into him. “Stroke it faster, yes, I’m going to cum, yes, yes,” it was all too much for John and cum shot out all over him. He was crying out trying to say his mantra as he felt the hot semen falling on his chest and face. Some even landed in his open mouth as his lips mouthed “Yours Miss Sarah”.



“Yeah baby, feel me spurting all over you, you’re fucking mine,” the words just made the experience even more intense. John’s cries rose a couple octaves as the orgasm ripped through him making his body quiver.



As the orgasm slowly subsided and John noticed the moisture in Sarah’s crotch up against him Sarah softly laughed,” all mine baby, all mine.” John had no idea how he had let it get this far but he did not know if he could go back.

I really didn’t think there was much that would surprise me. I’m not a kid, I’ve been around the block, and It’s not as if I am from some place like Iowa, but I will admit, she surprised me. Popular opinion held that she was pretty hot, but kind of a freak. Even I will admit she was a little weird. They were pretty much dead on correct. I don’t know what it was about her. The things that seemed to make her strange to everyone else somehow made her irresistible to me.



She found her clothes in rummage stores. She favored old jeans in strange colors and pants in curious or outright bizarre prints. My personal favorites were plaid and quite possibly a size too small. She was an attractive young woman. She was young, that had a lot to do with it. She had wonderfully large breasts and that had even more to do with it. I was continually distracted by what she would look like without her clothes on. I couldn’t help myself. I would find myself walking out of my way to follow her. I would just watch her move and wonder what her pale skin looked like underneath the tight black T-shirt.



I don’t generally think of myself as old. I know that I am older, I passed 40 two years ago, the same year she could legally enter a bar. I have been married and divorced, almost married a second time. I have three kids running around that occupy most of my free time. Yes, the oldest is closer to her age than I am. I never really took my obsession seriously. It is the same way I would like to drive a Ferrari or fly fighter jets. I would love to do it; it just is not going to happen. So I continued to obsess about her. Flirt with her from time to time. Lust after her each time she walked by. She didn’t even think of me in the way she thinks about the boys she sleeps with, and hell, she usually sleeps with girls. Damn, the thought of that was enough to send my middle aged heart into a dangerously fast and out of rhythm state.



And so it was with little intent and only a small glimmer of hope that I asked if she wanted to hit happy hour with the team on a random Thursday night. I had asked before so it was really just a passing thought as I walked by her desk on the way out the door. When she asked where, I was caught off guard.



It was a good Thursday for drinking. It was cool outside and warm in the bar. There was a good turn out and our little group filled out an arrangement of tables in a corner. We played pool and drank beer. She flitted between the table I sat at and the one at the other end. I drank slowly; after all, I am old. The party thinned out. We vacated one table, then a second. Finally there were five of us and she was still there. As it is with most conversations Andrea and I are in, it quickly turned to sex. It was obvious. Bryan was making a play. I was mostly watching, and occasionally chiming in. It was shitty of me I know but mostly I was setting him up for failure. I was pretty sure she could tell that’s what I was doing, I was pretty sure she either appreciated it or found it charming because the little smiles she was slipping me were rather pleasant and just a little naughty. When Brian took a call on his cell phone she leaned over to me.



“You know, you really have to stop talking about me banging other girls!”



“I’m sorry, am I ruining your action.” It’s true, inside I was giving myself a little high five.



“Ugh, no, but you are making me horny as shit.”



Crap.. really… think quick… what’s the next play. Hurry… hurry… play it cool. “Well, I can help you with that if you need.”



“Oh shut up… but… you wanna go see some strippers?”



Okay, lets see, the choices were go see strippers with hot young freak or, I don’t even think there was an or.



“Sure, let’s blow this joint.”



I could tell Brian was a little disappointed. I could tell April was shocked. I called for the check and we divided it up. She hugged April and somehow dodged Brian and slipped off towards the door. I swallowed the end of my beer and scurried for the door. Outside she was nowhere to be seen but as I approached my car she was sitting on the curb in front of it. I had been worried she had taken off. We pulled away and briefly discussed where the best place to see boobies was. She sat with her feet pulled up underneath her in the seat. She wished she had a short skirt. I wished the same thing.



It would end up costing me $200.00 but I would finally get to see her breasts. Her breasts and more. She got the first dance of course. It was a rather pleasant experience. The young girl was firm and well toned. She was tan with blonde hair and she contrasted rather nicely with Andrea’s Goth alternative look. She pressed her breasts to Andy’s red lips and ran her hands slowly along her thighs. After the dance, she sat on her lap without putting her small yellow bikini back on. Andrea asked to touch her breasts and she begged off, saying she would get in trouble. She danced for me next and it was obvious I was aroused by her little show and she spent a good amount of time pressing her ass against my erect cock through my pants. She looked longingly into Andy’s eyes.



The next dancer was not as good looking. She had large rubber breast that never seemed to move. Her dance was mechanical, Andy declined her offer. We sat a couple of songs watching the stage show. We discussed the girls. We debated enhancements vs natural breasts. We had very similar tastes. It was nice. There was no tension in the air, and aside from her lovely deep red lips I almost could have forgotten she wasn’t another guy sitting there but a young raven haired pale skinned goddess. Our favorite was on stage and Andrea approached her with a 20. She danced over to Andy and pulled out her G-string and Andy slid the money along her thigh and into the band.



She danced for Andy first. She was a curvy girl with a broad round ass. As she ran her face between Andrea’s breasts she arched her back and the view was nearly too much. Her thighs were smooth, her calves muscular. Turning, she moved her hips between her legs and looked at me. She played with her delicious tits. The song finished and she danced for me. She was a wonderful girl. Her body was soft but firm and warm. She moved against me, between my legs. I could smell her. I wanted to let myself go but I couldn’t. I was looking past her at Andrea. Andrea knew it too. I had had a good dose of whisky now on top of the beer from earlier and I couldn’t help myself. I was fixated on her green eyes and red lips and the way she watched the girl dancing for me.



“Do you want to watch me with her?” The stripper was whispering in my ear.



“Yes.”



“You want more than a dance, though, don’t you?”



“Ha.” I was flustered. What exactly do you say to that?



She finished her dance with her breast pressed to my face, her nipple brushing my lips. She was one hell of a salesman. Sitting on Andrea’s lap she was not as shy as the first girl. They were whispering in each others ears and she laid Andy’s hand on her breast in full view of the room. I could have been wrong but I could swear she licked Andreas lip just for a moment with the tip of her tongue.



The women stood and Andy came towards me. Shockingly, she was now sitting on my lap. Embarrassed, I knew my erection was pressed to her leg, I kept my arms pointedly pressed to the arms of the chair.



“I was going to ask if this was too weird for you.” Her smile was evil, taunting.



“I don’t think you can get too weird for me, dear.”



“Oh, I know I can. You seriously don’t have to. We can go.”



“Oh, I don’t want to go anywhere.”



“I don’t now what she has planned but she has me wet just talking about it.”



“Shit, all right.”



Her name was Carmen, or at least that’s what she was going by. Her pale skin hinted that her real name was nothing of the sort. She pulled the top back on covering herself as best as she could then came and took each of us by the hand. Walking to the back of the club she released our hands and walked with an arm around each of us. At the curtain to the back room another dancer, this one dressed in a short skirt and miniscule tank top, took my credit card. A very large bouncer impressed upon me the importance of sitting still and not touching.



Down a dark hallway to a small room we went, pulling the curtain aside there was a booth on one wall and another chair. Carmen sat me down in the booth and pulled Andrea to her. She kissed her deeply and Andrea dared to move her hands over the dancer’s body to her ass. Carmen took her hands away. I’m sorry. I touch, you can’t. Clearly disappointed Andy took her hands away and Carmen undressed. Standing in front of Andy I watched her move her hands over the black concert T shirt and over her ass the plaid pants.



I was glad I wasn’t allowed to move. I couldn’t.



The dancer moved her hands up inside of Andy’s shirt and over her breasts. Andy looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. I just smiled. The dancer went to work. Andy’s shirt was pulled off and tossed to the chair, then her bra. Her breasts were truly as wonderful as I had imagined. They were soft and full, still unaffected by gravity, they pushed off of her chest and Carmen ran her tongue over the round pink nipples. She was massaging her body and Andy was breathing deeply. When she moved her hands to the waist band of Andy’s trousers I thought she was going to fall over.



Her shoes sat on the floor by the chair, her pants now draped over the back. The dancer moved her head around her body touching her with her hair. Andy breathed deep and reached out her hands found Carmen’s shoulders and she supported herself.



“Do you need to sit down?”



“uhhhng.”



Carmen moved her towards me until she sat between my legs, I felt her body. My hands, I dint know where to place them. I looked down at the young woman and worried if my breath would ever come back. Carmen massaged her thighs and Andy held onto my knees. I laid my hands along her legs and felt her warm skin.



Carmen descended on her. The crown of her head now pressed to Andy’s belly. I wondered what she tasted like. Andy was purring lightly and I was gripping her legs firmly. This was sex. Andy was coming. Her breathing quickened, her body was warmer and her head pushed back until her cheek was in my face.



“Oh yes. Oh, please.” She whispered. I took advantage of her and moved my hands over her luscious tits and held one in each.



“Pinch.” She whispered and I took her nipples between my fingers. Small sighs came out of her as the stripper worked her with her tongue. Though I know it was only a few minutes, it seemed to last forever. Finally I felt her body go tense, her neck strained against my shoulder. I released her breasts and moved my hands slowly down her body. I throbbed in my pants so close to a climax of my own I still don’t know how I held back. Carmen raised and moved her head over Andy’s body until she came to my face.



“She tastes so wonderful. You are lucky.”



“Oh, um, she’s not really. I, don’t actually know.” And with that she pressed her lips to mine and slipped her tongue into my mouth until I did know. It was wonderful.



Andy didn’t talk. She sat up and looked back at me. She leaned to me and kissed my cheek and stood up. I had another minute or two of her tall lean naked body before she dressed again. Carmen sat on my lap as she put her clothes on and I think as she moved her ass back and forth against me she was trying to get me off as well but it was no use. I wanted Andy. I wanted her badly. It was frightening. Dressed, looking back at me ignoring the naked blonde in my lap, she knew it too.



We had another drink in peace and cashed out. Back in my car as I drove her back to hers, it was quiet. I wasn’t sure what to say. She was quiet for a while then started.



“Well, I have to ask you.”



“You have to ask me what?”



“You know.”



“Well, there are a lot of things you could ask me. I don’t really know which of them is mandatory; they are all pretty good,” my mouth was moving without the help of my brain.



“Really, what are the good ones?” I couldn’t make out the tone of this conversation. Was she mad, embarrassed, or still horny?”



“Well, you could ask what I thought of the dance. You could ask what I think of your absolutely gorgeous body. You could ask if I want another drink, or something to eat. The list just goes on from there.”



“Are you in love with me?”



“WHAT?” That really wasn’t even on my list possible questions.



“I mean, I watched you, you were watching me. There were tits everywhere and you were watching me.”



“What can I say, your tits are better.” I was quiet again. We were close to her car.



“You don’t love me. You just want me.”



“I think it’s safe to say at this point I want you.”



She was looking at me again, her feet pulled up on the seat. “What would you do to me?”



“Seriously?”



“Yes. Seriously.”



“After that? I want to lick you. I want to lick every bit of you until you beg me to stop. Then I want to lick you more.”



“Hmmm.” She was thinking. I was thinking. I was thinking and I was wanting. Feeling her on me coming had left me wanting desperately. I was now curious. I was confused. I hadn’t ever really even thought of actually having her but now, sitting here, I needed to think of an approach. I needed her. Fuck it, I was a dirty old man.



“Andrea, I want you desperately. I have been teased to my limit. I want you, I want to take you and fuck you. I want to lick you; I want to hear you come again.”



We were at her car. She was sitting there looking at me. She wasn’t really smiling but there was something going on.



“Can you do what you are told?” This is one of those questions that you answer without really thinking about. It’s the kind of question that takes you down new roads and new experiences, whether you were seeking them out or not.



“For you? I will do whatever you tell me.”



With that, she gave me directions to her apartment. It wasn’t far and surprisingly we didn’t talk about much on the way. I parked and she hopped out. I watched her move towards the stairs. It was different watching her now. I knew what was underneath the plaid pants and I was about to have it.



She sent me to the kitchen to make drinks. Very tall, very strong, she’d commanded. This wasn’t so hard. I could do what I’m told. She came out a minute later, the shower was running and she wore a towel. I took the drink to her and reached for her. I took her into my arms and she looked up at me. I wanted to kiss her, her lips waited. She looked at me with a cold hard stare.



“Did I tell you to do this?” She looked down at me holding her.



“Oh. Um, sorry?”



“I’m not sure this is going to work.”



“Oh, it will.” Fuck, I can’t get thrown out now.



“Then do what you are told, bitch.” Wow. Okay. I’m the bitch. Interesting. “Finish your drink and get in the shower. I want it fucking spotless.”



And so I did. I washed rather thoroughly actually, turning off the water I asked for a towel.



“No towel. Come here.”



She was standing at the foot of the bed. I was certain now that I was in for something new and that it wasn’t the first time she had been in the position. I was hard for her and I really could have used that towel.



“You’ve been hard for hours now. I’m not sure how long I should make you wait.” She wore black boots and had pulled on black panties. They were boy shorts. Damn, I love boy shorts.



“Lets see. Let’s get you off so I can get to some serious work. You wanna fuck me?”



“Oh yes. I want to fuck you.”



“Tell me you want to fuck me, bitch!”



That was going to take some getting used to.



“I wanna fuck you.”



“Tell me more.”



“I want my cock inside you. I wanna fuck you hard.”



She turned and grabbed a chair, her ass in the air. I knew what to do now. I pulled the panties to the side and took her from behind. She had me talk to her the whole time. It was furious and dirty. I was to call it a cunt or a fuck hole, and each time I pressed my self into her she groaned another command. I took her like I haven’t taken a woman in a good long time. I want to describe how good she felt, how good she looked with my hand on her hips and her ass pressed to me but what would really do it justice. She was luscious. The harder I stroked her the harder she wanted it,



“Fuck that cunt hole, bitch.” She hissed at me, and I did. Panting, I came in her. The buildup had been tremendous and it felt like I would never stop. “Give me that fat cock, oh yeah, split me open.” I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Her head bucked and her hair flew. She gasped and this time she cried out as she came, her pussy clamping down on my dick. I rammed it into her again. She was hot now and wet. I slapped her ass and pressed myself deeper into her. She pushed back to take me in.



Finally releasing me, she pushed me back. “On your knees, bitch. Clean my fuck hole.”



I did what I was told. She was salty as my cum dripped out of her and I licked her furiously. I couldn’t get enough of her. “Clean me, bitch, clean my little asshole too.” She was working some spell on me and I devoured her. She spread her legs and I twisted my neck to get up into her. I wished I could get deeper. Her lips were waxed clean and I ran my tongue over her smooth pussy, I wanted her to come again. Her hand was in my hair pulling me into her. Gasping for breath I couldn’t stop. I was growing hard again and the thought of fucking her again took hold of me. I ravaged her pussy, grabbing her ass to pull me to her. I felt she was coming again and as she pulled away I pulled her to me.



“Stop it bitch.” And she swung at me with a black riding crop. It slapped my ass and sent a furious shot of pain though me. “Hands and knees, my little bitch. You told me you could do what you are told.”



“Yes, ma’am.” I was still gauging how seriously I had to take this.



“That’s better, but that’s not what you are to call me.”



“What do I call you?” I said looking up at her, her full round breasts just above me.



“Bow your head!” and the crop hit my ass cheek again, the pain shot straight down through my legs and strangely though my hard cock.



“Right now you are gonna call me Daddy. And you are gonna tell Daddy how much you want me to fuck you.”



“I wanna fuck you, Daddy.” And the crop came down again.



“No! Tell me how much you want me to fuck YOU.”



“I want you to fuck me Daddy.”



“That’s right bitch.” And she had moved behind me. She was going to hit me again. The spanking was coming. I was her bitch.



“Yes daddy. I want you to fuck me.” I was wrong, a spanking was not coming. It was her finger, and it was greasy, well lubed.



“Tell me you want it.”



Her finger was working its way into me. It was a virgin hole and she worked it easy. She had to know.



“Yes, Daddy. I want you to fuck me in the ass.”



“That’s a good little bitch, tell Daddy how you want it.”



“Oh Daddy, I want it slow like that. Just like that.” And I did. It had been cold but now it was warm. My cock moved each time she slid into me. I’d never really thought about this. Never thought I’d like this.



“Daddy is going to fuck you now, okay my sweet little bitch? Tell Daddy when it’s good.” Her voice was soft and tender and as she slid her finger out I knew I wanted it back. I was coming and now I wanted her to fuck me.



“Oh Daddy. I need you to fuck me.”



“Oh, I am gonna fuck you.. You tell me when it’s good.” It was cold, just as her finger had been and it was large. It pushed at my anus and I felt it clamp down.



“Open that ass bitch. I wanna fuck it.” The calm voice was gone now.



“Look up bitch, you see the mirror. Can you see Daddy sticking his cock in you?



I couldn’t see the cock but I could see her. I saw her dark mascara, her full red lips, and her luscious round breasts. I felt her too. I felt the strap on break down the door and slide into me. She moved it slow at first and it moved deeper. She grabbed my hips and I moaned.

Chapter 03: Quill makes a splash



From his desk, quill can see into Erica’s office, or more precisely he can see Erica sitting at her desk. He does not know but, she has arranged it like this, when the main office had been refurbished she had designed the layout of the desks outside her office. With foresight she had a desk placed in such a position that she could see who ever is sitting at it and they could see her. It has remained empty for nearly a year before she had chosen a submissive, sorry a member of her staff, who would occupy it. Quill had been fortunate in bumping into Erica in, how did she describe it ‘that awful night club that has a dreadful BDSM night every month’. And there he sits John Thomas or quill as she has named him, trying to look at her without her knowing.



It is unusual for her to leave the door open and it becomes apparent to him that Erica is oblivious to the fact and that he is only pretending to work while watching her every move. She gets up and moves out of view, then returns a moment later with a steaming cup, her mid morning coffee. He knows her office habits, but she knows a lot more about him, he has confessed everything to her, he has no option she knows how to make him talk, make him divulge his secrets. His daily masturbation routine, now he thought about it, has changed subtly over the weeks. Erica now joins him as he stands cock out, in front of her desk. She now takes control of his stroking and teases his cock by gently sliding her hand up and down the shaft and then the questions begin. Within a week of this change she knew everything, he is helpless he is putty in her hands, if putty is a blood engorged penis that is on the verge of exploding.



Erica needlessly smoothes her skirt as she stands by the chair, the coffee cup brought to her lips, a gently blow to send a puff of steam floating up then her lips purse as they touch the edge of the cup and a sip of the hot liquid washes over them. Quill is jealous of that cup. She gracefully slips into her chair, places the cup on the desk and looks directly at quill.



The flash of her eyes and the warm smile on her face ensures quill does not look away. She does not mind him looking, welcomes it then slowly licks her lips with the tip of her tongue. Quill’s ‘rabbit in the headlights’ look would have made people wonder what he is doing, if his co-workers cared to look at him. They do not, he is not significant enough, he is just the weirdo that Erica uses to do the boring jobs about the office.



Erica places her middle finger in her mouth, sucks it, then traces a line down, over her chin, down her neck, she lifts her head at this point to give quill a better view of its path. Erica’s finger continues down, the open white blouse displays the top of her cleavage and the finger disappears between the soft, slightly tanned orbs. Her gaze holds quill as she mocks not being able to pull the finger out and looks at him in surprise. Quill’s eyes nearly pop out.



His phone rings, he grabs at it, not wanting anyone to look his way, to silence the harsh disturbance upon the gentle world that engulfs him.



“Hello quill. Enjoying the show?”



He did not noticed her other hand remove the receiver and dial his number, only now does he see the hand piece next to her ear. His mouth moves up and down, but no sound comes out. The laughter is gentle on the other end of the phone.



“Well, are you or aren’t you?”



“I ermmm, I ermmmm.” Is all quill can manage. He knows it is Erica and that she has known he has been watching. It is so unfair that she is able to read him like this, to know what he would do in any given situation and to then toy with him. He feels like a little boy who is caught peeping in on his sister. Oh my god, did she know about that as well, he could not remember what secrets he has spluttered out during his daily routines recently, now that Erica teases and strokes his cock during those sessions his only thoughts have been on the wonderful feeling that she is generating, everything else is a blur.



Erica finally removes her finger from between her breasts and now fondles and squeezes them while pouting her lips, her eyes smoulder, then she slowly licks the red lipstick and makes it wet.



“Do you have an erection quill?”



Taken by surprise at the question, quill looks down. Erica shrieks with laughter.



“Oh my god quill, could you not tell? Did you have to have a look to make sure?” Her laughter is loud it fills his ear and then his head. He blushes.



The sudden noise alerts Alice, who has been sitting at her desk just outside Erica’s office, head down, oblivious to what is happening between Mistress and submissive. She lifts her head, swivels on her chair and looks towards Erica’s office, but can not see in from the angle even through the open door. Then as she turns back her eyes catch quill, his red face making her stop and stare.



“Is Alice looking at you quill? Did she hear me laughing at you?” Mortified quill looks towards Alice and if possible blushes more. She is staring at him he does not know what to do. Does she know as well? That is silly, he is on the phone. All he can do is stare back.



“Quill! Quill!” The voice has authority, it rings through his head. “Stop staring at Alice and look at me.” He does. Alice frowns and tries to look in Erica’s office again, her curiosity peaked.



“Good boy.” He feels small again. Erica has made him feel this way many times lately, it is part of the process, it is part of the control she has over his submission. He knows that he is the victim of behavioural control. Erica has induced the feeling of being that small boy who is deeply ashamed of what he has done and the fact that he has been found out doing it. She only says “good boy” when he has confessed a secret he has tucked away, something deeply humiliating, something he has not confided to another soul.



“Alice is wearing that short skirt again today, isn’t she quill? You know the one. The one she has to keep pulling down, because it rides up and shows those long legs and supple thighs. The one you looked up quill, the one you told me you looked up quill.” Erica’s voice has become soft and husky in his ear. “Is your cock still hard quill? Is it throbbing? Do you want to feel her soft pussy slowly sliding down it quill?”



Quill gulps his head feels like it is going to explode. Eyes wide he just looks at Erica, all his will power has drained away, he is completely at her mercy.



“Good boy.” He feels reassured by her tone and words. She is in total control and he is grateful. Quill starts to calm down, the buzzing in his head has died away, but the need between his legs has not. He risks a quick glance at Alice who is still looking at him, he would have sworn she knew what Erica has just said and worse still the effect it has had on him. In that brief moment all he can think about is her pussy sliding down his cock. He gulps again.



“I want you to do something for me quill. Think of it as a little treat for being a good boy.”



“Yes Mistress.” Quill whispers this, even covers the mouth piece, not wanting anyone else to hear him utter those words. While he adores being her submissive, he is afraid of others knowing, it is yet another little secret he has which she can use against him.



He could see Erica smiling, being amused by his actions. He knows it will be exploited by her. She is exercising her control over him more and more; he has no option but to do her bidding, she just knows too much and how to use it for maximum effect.



“I want you to go to the toilets and masturbate. On the way there you will pick up one of those plastic cups from the water cooler. You will spurt into it and bring it back to me. Understand quill?”



“Yes Mistress.” Quill replied in a whisper.



“You have 10 minutes. Just 10 minutes to be stood in front of my desk with the cup containing your semen. Understand quill?”



“Yes Mistress.”



A moment passes, quill looking at Erica. Erica raises an eyebrow. “Time is ticking quill, why are you still on the phone?”



Flustered, quill slams the phone down, and then looks in horror at Erica. She just shakes her head and points at her watch to indicate that time is running out. Another glance at Alice confirms that she is still looking at him and clearly puzzled. He stands up and immediately remembers his erection, turns to try and hide it from Alice while pushing it down. Alice stares open mouthed at his antics. Erica laughs.



Half walking, half running quill makes it to the water cooler without bumping into anyone else, only to find Yvonne filling a cup. She looks up and smiles at him, her perfect teeth framed by her blood red lipstick. Then her eyes wander all over him, undressing him, taking in every detail, he always feels abused when she does this as he remembers being naked under the desk as she pummelled him with her feet. His cock throbs.



“Nice bulge quill.” She flashes her eyes as she says it and which makes quill feet dirty. “What’s the rush? Need to satisfy the bulge do you?” Amusement written all over her face.



He does not need this, not now, but he also knows he cannot be rude, Yvonne is Erica’s friend and confidante as well, there is nothing Yvonne does not seem to know about him. He sags, defeated; he is going to have to take the humiliation she always dishes out to him.



“I need a cup Yvonne.” Her eyes focus on him, her face hardens. “Ma’am, sorry Ma’am. I need a cup Ma’am.” quill splutters.



“That’s better quill.” Yvonne’s look softens. “In a hurry, with a bulge, needing a cup.” she laughs. “There is only one reason for that. Erica’s sent you to go and jerk-off and bring her back the evidence.” Her whole face lights up as she laughs. “If I wasn’t late for a meeting I’d insist on giving you a helping hand quill. Would you like that?”



What can he say? Yes and he is condemned to allowing her to masturbate him at some future date and she is bound to make sure he does, but would she tell Erica. No and she would be annoyed and definitely tell Erica he has been rude and uncooperative, he has no idea what punishment would result from that.



He takes a large gulp. “Yes Ma’am that would be very nice.”



“Good boy.” Yvonne said this just like Erica, he feels like a small boy. The conditioning is not only working, but extending to others as well. Worst still it has extended to Yvonne. His cock twitches, another side effect of the conditioning.



“Thank you Ma’am.” The response is automatic, he does not even think about it.



Yvonne leans into him, her perfume fills his nose, she smells wonderful and despite himself he feels his cock twitch and throb as if it has a mind of its own. He senses rather than sees her bust rise and fall with each breath she takes, her blouse open a button more than it should be. He is falling.



“I’ll ask Erica to allow you to present yourself to me later in the week and I’ll help you with that bulge.” Her laugh is soft and menacing all at the same time.



She pulls away. “Now let me help you with the cup.” She takes one from the stack and places it under the tap. “A little bit of water in here will help to keep the semen fluid and make drinking it easier.” Smiling, she allows a few drops into the cup.



“Thank you Ma’am.” quill takes the cup from Yvonne’s hand, she does not let go immediately, making him look up and into her eyes. Her brown face with those shiny blood red lips just inches away, her brown eyes looking deep into his soul, once again her perfume fills his senses. Despite all his misgivings at that moment he would allow her to devour him, use him, abuse him. And then she has gone, he gazes at the back of her as she turns the corner and wonders what might be.



Suddenly he remembers what he must to do. Quill rushes off towards the toilets, holding the cup carefully as the small amount of water starts to splash around. Yes he thinks a good idea having the water, it will keep it fluid and make the drinking of it easier as semen is sticky and clings to surfaces. It then struck him, drink it? Yvonne just assumed he would be drinking it. That possibility has not occurred to him in fact Erica has never made or even asked him to drink his own semen. He has come to a standstill as this thought races through his mind. The door to the men’s room to his right opens and Phil, Yvonne’s PA nearly bumped into him.



“Sorry John.” He mutters head down; he too is holding a water cooler cup. He places his hand over it as soon as he realises it is John and turns quickly away, towards Yvonne’s office. “Got to get this drink to Yvonne.”



“Ermmm, Phil, she was just at the water cooler and was heading the other way.” Quill volunteers and gives a jab with his thumb in the opposite direction that Phil has started to go.



“Shit, shit.” Phil turns quickly and smiles weakly at quill before scurrying off in the direction he indicated. Quill watches the back of Phil as it heads away. Oh my god he thought, Phil is Yvonne’s sub, here is a man that everyone agrees has twice the testosterone of a normal bloke, she has him wanking into cups as well and running around like a scared rabbit. Or is he just being paranoid, he may just be in a hurry, he might have got the water first, it might be totally innocent and yet.



Pushing the door to the gents open, quill is relieved to see it is empty and goes into the cubical at the far end. With the door shut firmly behind him he places the cup on the closed toilet lid and undoes his trousers. Despite the distraction of Phil he is pleased to find his cock still semi hard and a few strokes has it at optimum. He is about to relax and have an enjoyable wank thinking about what Erica has said and told him to do and despite the fact he feels he should not like Yvonne the thought of having her long brown fingers with those deep red nails round his cock is a delicious idea. A thought strikes him, he looks at his watch. Bugger his ten minutes are nearly up. He strokes as hard and as fast as he can, fear now being the driving force. Thirty seconds later he spurts semen into the cup, squeezes his cock like a tube of toothpaste to get every last drop out. It does not look like much, the creamy grey fluid bobs in the water at the bottom of the cup. Panic stricken he hauls his trousers back up, his shirt not completely tucked in but rushing, knowing he has to, knowing he has disappointed.



He now knows how Phil felt, scurrying along the corridor back to Eric’s office, hand over the cup feeling it slosh around and occasionally wet his palm. He turns the corner and even from this angle sees the door is open, Alice is not at her desk on guard duty. A blessing not to have to think of an excuse to get past her to see Erica. Not having to be deceitful to that pretty face.



A few more strides and he bursts into Erica’s office heads for her desk, already the apology is forming on his lips when he sees the look of mild amusement on her face, then follows her eyes as she looks to the side and sees Alice standing there.



“Yes John?” Erica tilts her head as she speaks, the amusement dancing across her eyes, quill has to make an effort to turn back to her, the sight of Alice shuts down his brain although his mouth continues to move up and down on its own. A slightly strangled noise finally emerges.



“What is so urgent you have burst in and interrupted Alice and me?”



Quill still cannot speak, he just looks back from Erica to Alice , who now has a look of concern.



“I errrrrr, errrr.” The words catch in his throat he coughs, splutters, coughs again. The apology, the begging for mercy, the imploring, the promise of doing anything for forgiveness does not fit the scenario he has before him. Again he looks towards Alice .



“You OK John?” Alice ‘s voice is soft, it flows over him. “You’d best have a drink of that water.”



“What?” He finally finds at least one word.



“The water in the cup, the one you are holding.” Alice offers even more help and points to his hand.



Quill looks down at it, as if seeing it for the very first time. The water is a grey mush it definitely has a sticky quality to it. From the cup he looks up at Erica, she arches one eyebrow, he is lost he has no idea what to do. He coughs again as the words fail to come out.



“Think you’d better do as Alice says John.” He is not sure, but a thought hits him, she has not told him to drink, she has told him to obey Alice .



He looks at the contents of the cup again, then up at Alice . She nods and smiles to encourage him to obey her, to drink the contents. Does she know what is in the cup? Is that smile one of triumph as he obeys and taste’s his own semen. He gulps and looking at Alice puts the cup to his lips. She nods again. He tilts the cup and the sticky fluid slowly makes its way to his lips. Opening his mouth he accepts it, allows it to slide in, feel’s it cover his tongue on its way to his throat. The taste is strange, neither pleasant nor unpleasant. It is the taste of yet another barrier going down as he falls deeper into submission, a taste he knows will become familiar to him.



“Does that make you feel better John?” Erica is speaking, he turns and nods. He realises there is more than just the physical aspect to her question, there is an emotional side, made all the more meaningful as it has been asked in company. All questions of submission so far have been in private, this has been in front of another, even if they did know it. Another barrier comes crashing down.



Quill lowers the cup a quick glance tells him he has drained it. He looks at both women the expectant look on their faces puzzles him. Then he realises he needs to speak, to explain his presence. His brain refuses to function it really has only one thought, one he dare not vocalise with Alice present. All he wants to say is ‘what shall I do next Mistress.’ Erica comes to his rescue.



” Alice was telling me about the night club on the High Street. The one that has a BDSM evening once a month. Have you been to it John?” Amusement dances across Erica’s eyes. What has she told Alice? “Alice tells me she has been a few times now and,” Erica stops at that point and looks at Alice who is open mouthed in horror that she reveals this nugget of gossip. “And says she enjoys it.” The soft laugh is one quill knows well, it is the one Erica uses when she has her victim, him, dangling, not knowing what is coming next. “So have you been John?”



“I errrr, I’ve errr been just the once.” Quill mumbles and looks down as he replies. Despite the situation, he can not lie he has to tell the truth.



Alice’s face relaxes. “Really?” Her curiosity getting the better of her initial horror. Besides it is now a shared secret, John has been as well, so he is a bit kinky.



“Me too John.” Erica says this as if giving up a secret in order to join the gang. “Yvonne has dragged me along a few times. But we all know what Yvonne is like, don’t we John.” This last remark although casual, is clearly aimed at quill. He stiffens a little, what is going to come next.



He does not need to worry, Alice leaps in with what she thinks is a juicy piece of gossip. “Well, apparently she does BDSM for real and has a slave in this building.” Alice leans in and in conspiratorial tones says, “the word is its Phil her PA, but I don’t know as he is so manly.” The word causes her to flutter her eyes. “With a wandering eye and hands. So I’ve heard.” She adds hastily.



Quill is aware that Erica has been watching him closely during Alice ‘s revelations. The amusement in her eyes makes quill feel hot.



“So tell me Alice, did you go as a Mistress or a slave?” Although the question is for Alice , Erica keeps her eyes on quill.



Alice starts to laugh, a soft giggle really, it has an immediate effect on quill and so soon after he has deposited his seed. He turns slightly to mask his groin from Alice and inadvertently give Erica a much better view. Knowing Alice is too preoccupied with her own tale, Erica makes sure quill is aware that she is looking at his trousers and that they have started to bulge. He knows this will be commented on and used against him as all the other involuntary reactions have been.

“Well I did not know what to do or where to look either.” Alice starts to talk now she has her giggles under control. “And found myself in a room that had a man, totally naked, bent over a table.” Her eyes widen as she continues. “Then the woman who has been spanking him with a riding crop, gave it to me and said to have a go as her wrist is hurting. So I did.” Another fit of giggles. “I don’t know what came over me. But the woman said I was being too soft and to hit him harder.” Alice stops as if seeking reassurance, making sure she still has her audience. She blushes. “It felt really good. I did him and a few others, made me feel very hot.” She looks down, trying to hide her red cheeks.



“Sounds exciting Alice .” Erica pipes up. “I bet he deserved it as well. Most men do.” This makes Alice look up again and starts to grin in agreement. “And what did you do John, where you masterful or submissive?”



He feels Alice ‘s eyes upon him, he blushes now, how can he answer this, he can not lie, but saying he is submissive will open him up to Alice , she has clearly shown she is dominant albeit in a players way. Now Erica knows how Alice feels, it will not be long before she has Alice in her confidence, maybe even tutoring her. Oh My God, she would practice on him Erica has already thought of that he is sure.



The phone rings, the moment is broken. Erica looks annoyed.



“I have to take this.” She says as the callers name flashes on the small screen. “You’ll both have to go. I’ll need to speak to you before you leave tonight John, can you stay behind for a little while?” As he says yes, she picks up the phone and waves the two of them away.



“Hehehehe, and what did you do in the club John?” Alice asks as soon as they close the door on the office.



“I’ve got work to do.” Quill is abrupt and walks away to his desk, not daring to look round. When he sits, Alice is looking at him, head tilted slightly, smiling, then bites her lower lip. He is now a challenge to her, he knows she will try and get him to tell what happened at the club, she will then have leverage over him, he will crumble he knows he will.



Quill is keeps busy for the rest of the day, especially as he now has to catch up on the work he did not do while watching and then performing for Erica. Whenever he does look away from the computer screen, Alice looks just as busy. Although he has one horror filled moment when dizzy Dawn from Accounts Payable collects Alice for lunch and they chat and look over at him. Dawn’s eyes widen at what Alice is saying then the pair giggle as they walk away. Thankfully Dawn does not return with Alice and quill only has to suffer the occasional glances and smirks from the short skirted temptress. Erica’s door remains closed, she does not even leave for lunch, so he does not get to see his Mistress for the rest of the day, which weighs heavy on his shoulders.



Pretending to look at the computer quill watches Alice get up and prepare to leave for the day. She looks over several times clearly trying to catch his eye. He knows what she wants and does not want to give it up. Its private, it’s special and it’s his. But for how long, Erica has been breaking his defences recently as she exerts more control over him, is this thing with Alice just another one she is going to use against him, he feels low, he needs to see and be with Erica, he relies on her to keep him strong as his submission grows.



The rest of the office empties, he sits and watches the staff go as he does every day, waiting for his designated time to stand before his Mistress, to get ready for his daily routine, to ask the question that even now still makes him blush, to be granted permission to masturbate.



He sits alone everyone has gone, there are still ten minutes before he has to present himself to Erica, for the first time since rushing out of her office quill allows himself to think back over the events of the day. Watching her, the phone call, the task being set, bumping into Yvonne, yes bumping into Yvonne that is exciting, his cock stirs as he remembers her perfume and the touch of her hand on his. He shakes his head as if to dislodge the thought, but he knows it will be one that will come back time and again. Then there is Phil, Mr. Testosterone, running after Yvonne like a little boy with a cup of his semen. This makes him smile and wonders if he could use this fact some how, yes it would be good to have leverage on him. But then that is what he had to do, to spill his seed into a cup and run back to his Mistress, he is no different really. Then to find Alice there, spoiling the moment. Having to drink his juice on her command and not Erica’s even though she did not know it. His cock is erect now.



Erica’s door opens sharply she stands and looks round the empty office. “Quill in here now.”



Quill jumps, looks round in a panic but relaxes when he too sees the room is empty save him and Erica. Rising quickly, forgetting the bulge in his pants he half walks half runs to her office.



“Another erection quill?” Erica stands a side as he rushes into her office, closes the door behind him. “Did I give you permission? What where you thinking about quill?” Her tone is neutral, quill has no idea if she is pleased or annoyed with him.



“Just, ermmm, just thinking about today Mistress.”



“Yes, you’ve had an interesting day quill. We will talk about it after you have asked for permission to masturbate. We must observe the routine.” Erica is behind her desk now, quill stands in front of it.



Everything is ready quill takes a breath and asks.



“May I masturbate Mistress please may I masturbate for you.”



“Drop your trousers to your ankles.” Quill obeys. “Now pull your underwear down as well.” Again quill obeys. When he stands up his erect cock is poking through his shirt. “No need to tell you to make it hard today is there quill.”



Quill gulps. “No Mistress.” His face burns with the blush that spreads across it.



Erica smiles and walks round to the front of the desk. She rests against it next to quill, tilts her head as she looks at the appendage poking out then raises her eyes to meet his without changing her head’s position. When she is sure she has his complete attention, she lowers her eyes again to his swollen cock and stares at it for a minute before straightening up and looking back into his eyes.



“You’ve had an interesting day today, haven’t you quill?”



“Yes Mistress.”



“I think it will be constructive to go through what has happened, to make sure that you understand where you pleased and where you displeased me.”



Quill gulps. His mind races as he tries to think of when he might have displeased Erica. Again he thinks of the behavioural conditioning that he knows she is been using on him, but it is useless to fight it he does not want to disappoint her, that is the main point of the conditioning. He knows it, but could not fight it, she is slowly gaining control over him at a subconscious level, his actions and words are coming from there. His only thought seems to be to not disappoint, he hates to disappoint Erica.



Erica reaches out and touches his cock, it twitches.



“Control it quill.” Her mild rebuff makes quill think hard and endeavours to bring the feeling under control. “That’s better.”



Only the pads of her thumb and forefinger touch quill’s cock. This is how it has been recently. Then the stroking begins. It is a slow easy movement of the hand by Erica, the thumb and finger moving easily along the shaft, the thumb on top, the forefinger below, pushing the foreskin up and over the head on the up movement. Not stopping till they reach the tip of the head, briefly trapping and pinching the foreskin as it gathers there. Then down the shaft, it is when half way down when the foreskin starts to be pulled back enough to reveal the head, by the time Erica’s thumb and forefinger reaches the base of the cock, the head is fully revealed and quill’s cock throbs. Erica continues to stroke in this manner for several minutes, looks at quill, deep into his eyes then back to the source of his pleasure, smiling as the head of his cock is revealed again and again.



“Your cock feels fuller, harder than normal quill. That is good I prefer a cock to be full, ready if you like. A soft, floppy cock is no use to me, is it?” Erica laughs as quill fights to control the pressure. He is starting to push out a little when her finger and thumb reach the base.



“No Mistress.” The words are barely audible, the sensation she is generating is building up.



“Now let’s take things in the right order shall we.” A few strokes in silence, a chance for quill to try and think back to the morning. “You were being a very nosy boy this morning, weren’t you quill.” He nods. Another few strokes. “Did you enjoy watching your Mistress? Did you like seeing her touch her breasts quill?”



The image from the morning of Erica fondling her tit. Her hand sliding over the white blouse, smoothing it to emphasise the shape. Quill gulps, his mouth feels dry.



“Did you like seeing my finger disappear between my breasts quill? Oooooo, that felt so good quill.” He pushes out more now as the down stroke reaches the base. Erica now pushes a bit further as well, the skin pulls back even further, the red skin beneath the head exposed to the cool air tingles it. “Did you wish it was your finger quill?”



“Yes Mistress, yes I did Mistress.” Quill blurts the words out, there is no hiding the emotion behind them, he truly does wish to take hold of those magnificent orbs in his hands, to squeeze them, to put the nipple to his lips and suck hard.



“I know you do quill. But you are not ready yet quill. You have a long way to go before you can put your finger between my breasts. You know that don’t you quill?”



Deflated by the remark, quill sags slightly. “Yes Mistress, I know Mistress.” The strokes along his cock remain constant, but he pushes out more now, he has picked up the rhythm and can feel the foreskin being pulled back further each time. It does not go back over the head now, it catches just below and Erica’s finger and thumb continue their journey alone on the tight skin of the head.



Erica starts to laugh.” It was so funny when you had to look to see if you had an erection quill.” Again he feels put down, it is silly. “Do you wish to look down now and make sure you have an erection quill?” This last sentence is said in a mock baby tone. Quill resists the urge to look down.



“Look down at your erection quill.” This time the voice is hard, it is not a mocking tone it is a command.



“Yes Mistress, sorry Mistress.” He quickly looks down as the thumb makes its way back along the shaft to the head, which has a small drop of pre-cum forming in the opening. He gasps, eyes wide, his cock throbs. He sees his pants at his feet, his cock poking out of the shirt, he feels as if he has been caught quite literally with his trousers down. The little boy doing something he should not, the imagery is very real.



Erica stops the stroking, allowing quill to take in the scene. A moment passes.



“Good boy.” Although quill is feeling small, the little boy lost, he knows what is about to happen and starts to perk up. Erica now takes hold of the head of his cock in her hand, lets the head snuggle in the palm, the drip wets her hand and will help with the next action.



“Count to ten quill.”



This is his reward this is what a good boy gets.



“Yes Mistress. One.”



Erica slides her hand down his cock, the head emerges from the hand, the fingers are wrapped around the shaft now, holds it tight, squeezing as they go. The skin is pulled back mercilessly, the head swells. It is painful, but delightful at the same time, then at the base, she opens her hand and continues, cups his scrotum and squeezes the contents causing quill to open his mouth. The pressure stops just short of pain. Then Erica’s hand begins the journey back the skin crinkles and gathers in front of the thumb and forefinger that form the front ring. The head disappears into the palm once again.



“Two”



Erica’s hand delivers the pleasure tinged with pain once again. Quill gasps and pushes out as she reaches the base. The back stroke causes more pre-cum ooze out of the opening, this is adds to wet palm, Erica does a swirl when at the end to distribute the wetness.



“Three.”



As her hand begins its delightful route along the shaft, quill glances at Erica. She is looking right at him, her gaze holds him for a second, she squeezes the shaft tightly and the balls even more so.



“Watch your cock quill. Look down not at me.” The hard edge in her voice is still there. He obeys immediately.



“Four.”



He knows she is watching his face, examining it, watching the emotions flicker across it. He cannot hide the pleasure she is delivering. He loves his reward for being a good boy.



“Five.” Control is difficult the desire to spurt is great.



“Six.” Deep breathes, that is the key. She told him so. He is going to control the feeling, that wonderful feeling.



“Seven.” But it is not easy as he watches her hand move along the shaft. He will not disappoint, that is the key.



“Eight.” So much red angry skin is now exposed when Erica’s hand pushes back into his body at the bottom of the down stroke. Quill’s push forward at this point seems to tear at the skin, but it is worth it to feel her grip increase on his sac as if she is showing pleasure at his efforts.



“Nine.” He is feeling lust now, he grunts as he pushes forward and his reward is an extra hard squeeze of his balls.



“Ten.” Last one. He pushes forward hard and fast an animalist sound escapes him. But there will be no release, there has not been in any of his reward strokes by Erica.



Once her hand returns to the head, Erica alters the grip and it returns to just the thumb and forefinger slowly stroking quill’s cock. The feeling of her hand surrounding the shaft will last a few strokes, then fade.



“Well, quill I think you enjoyed that didn’t you.” Nothing escapes her, nothing is lost, everything is used against him at a later date.



“Yes Mistress, thank you Mistress.” The thought of that manipulation will remain with him, the promise of her hand bringing such please will be the carrot to tempt quill further under her control.



A few moments of silence, of easy strokes, a chance to calm down while his cock is teased to remain hard. Erica’s gaze wanders up and down quill from her hand that is manipulating him to his eyes. He feels as if he is not just being undressed, not that much is hidden, more his very being is slowly falling away, revealing more than just his naked body.



“Now quill, let us talk about Alice .” This she says, deliberately on the down stroke, when his cock is fully exposed, skin back, as he pushes out and it throbs. Quill knows that Erica is creating the image of Alice and his hard cock in his mind, he starts to go stiff when she says her name about the office the re-enforcement is done at every masturbation session. He does not know why, surely she would want him to become stiff at her name, in her presence, not when another woman’s name is said. He dare not think of what cruel game Erica is playing with him. He just knows that Alice equals erection.



“You like Alice , don’t you quill?” Again she says her name on the down stroke, when he is pushing out, reaching as far as possible, again his cock throbs. “I know you do quill, I can tell.” Erica smiles then looks down at his cock which she is maintaining at full stretch as she keeps her hand pushing back into quill so it is completely exposed, skin back, the head swollen and purple. She then laughs, continues the stroking and looks back into his eyes.



“I loved the look on your face as you rushed in to find her standing there, your cup of semen in hand. It is all I could do to stop laughing out loud.” A few more silent stokes. She studies him he knows she is, waiting for the right moment to plant the next seed of submission or confusion in his mind.



“Did you enjoy doing as Alice told you quill?” And there it is. Did Alice tell him what to do? He becomes confused, it shows, the stroking slows as Erica emphasises the next point.



“You know quill, when she told you to take a drink.” Again on the down stroke. “Do you think she knew what was in your cup quill? Do you?” This thought floods his brain. Yes, it is true, Alice had told him to drink and like a good submissive, he had drunk his own semen. More silent strokes, to ensure the thought sinks home.



“Would you like Alice to order you around quill? What would you do if she was to take over your training quill?”



Despite the fact he is now pumping his hips in time with the delicious stroking of his cock by Erica he manages to say, “I am very happy with your Mistress Erica, I don’t want anyone else to teach me Mistress. Please Mistress, don’t give me away please Mistress.” There is a pleading in his voice.



“I hear what you say quill, but I’m not sure your body agrees.” Again the mocking laughter. “You really want me to continue quill?”



“Yes Mistress, please Mistress.” He is unsure if she means to continue teaching him or stroking him, either way he does not want it to stop.



Erica smiles.



“Good boy. Look down quill and count to ten.”



The feeling of desire and confusion is replaced with joy as he looks down and starts the count. As before Erica’s hand encloses the head of his cock and a full hard stroke down to the balls, which she squeezes, signals another few minutes of pleasure and control for quill.



He finally says ten and Erica returns to the finger and thumb strokes, quill breaths hard and long, fights for control of the pressure.



“Control it quill. Don’t spurt, control your cock.” Erica’s words are more of a command; he knows she will be disappointed if he spills his seed before she has given permission. But watching her fingers glide along the shaft, the sensation they produce which is slamming into his brain is so hard to control. He knows she is watching his face, his eyes, he wants to look back at her, to fall helplessly into her gaze, but that would be too much, he would not be able to control the feeling then.



Erica continues to stimulate quill in silence, he feels the first beads of sweat form on his brow.



Without warning, Erica’s hand disappears under his shirt and takes hold of his sac, she is rough and hard, her fingers squeezing and releasing the two soft balls that live within it. Quill gasps at this sudden switch in attention and without thinking lifts his head to look at her. Erica’s face is hard, her eyes steely, her mouth tight lipped. This is not good, quill started to shake. Her manipulation of his scrotum increases in force.



“Now tell me what happened at the water cooler quill. What did Mistress Yvonne say to you?”



“I errrr, it errr.” The stumbling start only makes Erica increase the hand movement and the strength of the squeezing, she starts to pull and twist the sac as well, quill gasps.



” I errrr… bumped into Mistress Yvonne and she handed me the cup Mistress.” Erica does not let up in the manipulation of his sac, pulling and twisting it while looking straight into his eyes, straight at the terror. “She errr, kindly put some water in the cup Mistress, she said it would make drinking it easier Mistress.” Quill lets out a slightly muffled but stained whimper as Erica ramps up the rough treatment of his sac.



A moment passes then Erica very deliberately says. “Is that all quill? Was nothing else discussed quill?” A twist and pull of the sac.



Barely able to catch his breath, quill knows he must tell all, Erica already knows, but quill has to tell the truth and hide nothing. He knows this, no matter what the consequences will be.



“She offered to help me Mistress, to help me masturbate and fill the cup Mistress.” Now that he has said it, now that it is out there quill feels better, as if a weight has been lifted.

It was actually at a party for her sister that I first noticed her. Teeg was known as the rebel in the family and probably got away with it because she was also the best looking. Standing at about 5’6 and 120 lbs she had a face that models would envy, with slender features framed by a head of long jet black curls to about the middle of her back. Having just had a baby and still nursing she was top heavy which was just a bonus as far as I was concerned.



The day after the party she decided to show me around a bit. Since I was without a car, she picked me up at my hotel room around 9:00 am in her sporty convertible and flashed a smile that showed perfect teeth. She was wearing a short white skirt that showed her slim legs to great advantage and a tank top with a logo on it that I had seen before but couldn’t remember where. It had a circle connected to an off-kilter plus sign and another line leading to a circle below it to the left. Her ample cleavage was barely contained by the fabric. In short, she was stunning. I couldn’t believe my good luck at being able to spend time with her.



She gave me the once over as I got in the car. I’m 5’10 and had been working out regularly so my 200 lbs fit well on my frame. She smirked again as I buckled up and she pulled away from the curb.



“Since I’m on mat leave anyway, my father asked me to show you around.” she said. “What would you like to see?”



I stifled my first answer as I glanced at the battle her top was having containing her chest and came out with “how about whatever you like best?”



“Are you still working as a photographer?” she inquired.



“Some. At this point it’s mostly a hobby, but I would love to take some shots of you and your son, if you wouldn’t mind.” I said glancing at her infant son as he slept in the back seat.



She agreed with a smile.I was using her son as an excuse. I wasn’t sure which way to turn for a more spectacular view. The scenery was amazing but sitting next to me was one of the most exotic looking women I’ve ever seen!



We started driving along the coast to a park area with the ruins of an old fortress. It was now a national park, well kept and very popular. I took some snaps of the scenery and started to include Teeg and her son in some of the photos. She knew she couldn’t keep up with my running around so she suggested I go on ahead while she nursed her baby.



Though it pained me to leave her, I went off to explore the area. There were some gorgeous spots and I must have spent an hour running around to get the right angles.



When I came back, Teeg was laying on the grass with her son on her chest. I took a few shots and then posed them for some more. We decided to go for a stroll along the boardwalk. The entrance to the path was an iron gate in the stone wall of the old fort ruins. There was a photographer there with a bride and groom temporarily blocking the way. We watched as he had her lean against the 8ft. grille, her arms stretched out gripping the bars.



“Nice pose.” I commented, “but I would have done it differently.” She smiled and asked what I meant. I looked into her eyes so I could see her reaction as I replied “I would have their positions reversed.” Her eyebrows rose.



“Really?” she said with a greater degree of interest as her smile grew.



Something in the look on her face, perhaps the widening of her pupils told me there could be something very interesting in the works. “How would you have posed it then?”



I laughed as I thought about how I would really have liked to do the shot and debated about whether or not I should tell her. We’d been eying each other flirtatiously and I wasn’t sure how much to reveal.



“I’m waiting for an answer.”



“Yes, Ma’am.” I said.



“I would either have the groom attached to the gate or at her feet on his knees.”



She laughed “my goodness aren’t you the naughty boy!”



“Absolutely.” I said with a wry smile. “And you know what to do with a naughty boy, don’t you?”



“Careful or you might find out. You don’t really know me, do you?



“True but I would love to know you much better”



“Hmmm” she said enigmatically.



The baby started getting restless so Teeg turned her attention to him. I tried to take a few more photos but it wasn’t working. The late afternoon sun was giving a warm glow to Teeg’s Oriental skin and I was determined to get a shot that would please her. I suggested going for a walk on the beach. Perhaps the change of scenery would help.



Teeg stood up and looked down at me as I gathered my equipment.



“You look good on your knees”. I looked up to her, my gaze following from her legs up her perfect body.



“Thank you, Mistress” I replied.



She smiled and watched me gather my things. “I like that. I think you should use that from now on”.



In my earlier exploration of the area I noticed a more private cove that could provide some interesting backdrops. The wet sand proved hard enough for the stroller as I pushed it along. The movement settled the baby and he went to sleep.



Before long we found ourselves in a secluded area with some rounded boulders in the sand and a few shallow caves where the sand had worn away the stone.



Teeg looked around approvingly at the afforded solitude. Glancing around she found a place for the stroller and an elevated spot to sit down. I started to pose her, taking advantage of the light and the surroundings. We were really getting into it. I decided to push the envelope and get a bit more daring and revealing. Teeg insisted on reviewing the shots.



“Very nice” she said. “Some of these look very interesting. Now it’s my turn. Will you pose for me?”



“Sure” I said.



She got down off the rock where I had last posed her and took the camera.



“Is that how you’re supposed to answer?”



I looked at her and smiled. “No Mistress. I beg your forgiveness.”



“Begging isn’t done standing. You’ll have to be punished but there’s time for that later. For now I want to take some pictures of you.



Teeg took some close ups and played with angles and backgrounds the way I did with her. “Now take off your shirt so I can see more of you.”



“Yes Mistress. You can see as much of me as you wish.”



She laughed and said “Oh, I will. But I want to enjoy it.” She snapped away as I removed my shirt. “Now your pants.” I tried to put on a bit of a show for her amusement, like Elliott in ‘Exit to Eden’. She laughed and continued to snap away. As a bit of a tease and a treat to myself I had chosen to wear my black g-string underwear which got her approval, but not as much as the fact that I keep myself shaved. “Mmmm, I definitely like what I see.”



After a few more poses that showed off my muscled body Teeg decided that I might look better if I gleamed. I could choose between going into the water, and having baby oil put on me. I started getting hard at the thought of her hands rubbing the lotion on me so that was my choice. Unfortunately that was not yet to be. She handed me the bottle and told me to apply it myself. The sheen of the oil picked up the sun well as I oiled my arms,powerful legs, broad chest and shoulders. Teeg took a few more shots and told me to turn around. She put the camera down and put some oil on my back. As the oil ran down my back she rubbed it in.



“Let’s go over to those rocks.” she suggested. “Now lean over”. As I did, she said “remember your comment about what to do with bad boys?” I nodded. “Good” Suddenly she swatted my ass. “Was that what you had in mind?”



“Yes Mistress.”



“And what do you say?”



“Thank you Mistress. May I have another?”



“Delightful” she laughed. “I take it you’ve done this before” I nodded. “And you like it, I see” she commented looking at my now protruding cock.



“Yes Mistress.”



“Do you want to be my slut, boy?” she demanded.



“Very much, Mistress.”



“Then you’ll do as I say and I’ll do as I wish. Agreed?”



“Yes Mistress. I’ll do as you say and you’ll do as you wish.”



“So I can do this?” she asked as her hand came down in quick succession. “Or this?” she asked as she reached around and pinched my nipple hard.



I yelped. “If it pleases you Mistress.”



“Good answer.” Another swat to my ass as Teeg ordered me to spread my legs. She reached through between my legs to grab my cock and balls, rubbing the oil over me, teasing. I moaned as her hand slid up and down my shaft. “Yes, I’m sure you like that, but what about this?”



I felt her fingers circling my anus and suddenly invading my ass. I began pushing back onto her hand, eager to take more. “Well” she said in surprise, “aren’t you the little slut!? Do you want more?”



“Yes please,Mistress. Please fuck me.” I wasn’t sure how many fingers were in there as Teeg has very slender hands, but she was certainly filling me.



Suddenly she pulled out and swatted my ass again. “I think we’ll have to continue this another time. I’ll say one thing though. You have a very greedy slut ass! Now I want you to lay down on your back.” Teeg used some wipes to clean her hands and picked up the camera again. “I want you to play with yourself while I watch. Don’t you dare cum without my permission.



I did as ordered and started stroking. Teeg took more photos from different angles.”You will, of course make a full copy of all these for me, won’t you slut?” she asked as I teased away, pumping my cock. “Don’t forget to squeeze your balls. I want you to finger your ass. That’s right. Deeper!”



While my hands were occupied Teeg lifted her skirt and straddled my face. “Let’s get give your tongue some exercise too. Your aren’t allowed to cum before I do, Remember that!”



I lapped at her pussy, tasting her juices. Sucking her clit into my mouth I flicked my tongue over it quickly and then circled it gently. Teeg moaned her approval and I went back to gentle lapping. After a while of sucking, flicking,lapping, and probing, Teeg shifted and ordered me to kiss and then tongue her ass. Surprisingly it had an almost sweet taste and I renewed my efforts to please her. Another shift brought her pussy to my lips as she came, gushing all over my face. She continued rubbing her pussy over me for a bit longer, until she was satisfied.



“Mmmm that was very nice.” Teeg got up. “I think you earned a treat. I want you to put your feet up in the air. She leaned in, pushing my legs over me, basically folding me over. Looking up I understood what she was doing. “Now stroke it faster. Cum for me!”



As I slammed my hand up and down my shaft she started to spank me again before reaching for the camera again. “Now! I want you to cum but you better catch it in your mouth. Whatever misses, stays on you slut. Do it!” Hearing her talk that way and thinking of the position I was in combined with my previous teasing and stroking made me cum very quickly. I doubled myself over more tightly to make sure I caught every drop. Teeg caught the whole thing on camera, as I collapsed.



“Good slut. Now I think it’s time to go. I’ll take you back to your hotel so you can freshen up for tonight.”



“Tonight?” I asked.



“Yes. I have something special in mind, starting with supper. I’ll pick you up at 7:30.



As I was getting out of the car she said “by the way, no underwear.”

The morning starts out like every other morning. I walk into the office and begin preparing for the new day. I start my day with a large cup of coffee. I relax in my office sipping my coffee and enjoy the view of the morning sunshine on the city below. I enjoy watching the people scurry to work in the morning its just one of the many things I truly enjoy doing.



I finish my coffee. This is usually the best part of my day. Before everyone else arrives and the caffeine from the coffee is starting to take effect. Too bad the energy will have to be wasted on work I think to myself. Oh what I would give to smell her sweet perfume right now. To caress her soft legs. To run my fingers through her hair. To sit and gaze into the heavenly face of hers and memorize over and over her lips, her eyes, and the cute little way she smirks when she is naughty. But mostly to simply kiss her lips. That is my biggest reward I can ever receive from her. To be allowed to gently place a soft kiss on her lips is more than I can ever deserve.



I hear the elevator bell ding and realize it is time for other people to start coming in. I sit behind my desk and take in a last view of the way the morning light warms the office and illuminates the table and desk.



As the office door closes, I look up to see you standing at the door. You are a vision to behold. You are dressed in a long black overcoat and black high heels. My heart begins to beat with fear and excitement. I begin to speak with a fear in my throat. I tell you that people will soon begin to come into the office to begin the workday. You tell me that is my problem. Your problem right now is that you have an appointment and you do not have time for a pedicure. The thought of being able to pamper your feet instantly arouses me. My heart continues to beat faster. While the fear of having someone see me in this position scares me, the excitement of the process is just as exciting.



I tell you I do not know if I have the time to properly pamper your feet. You slowly walk toward me. You sit on my desk and place your beautiful high heeled shoe on my chair between my legs. You place one finger under my chin and look me in the eyes. You tell me that WHEN I finish giving you a pedicure then if you have time you may reward me. The opportunity to earn my reward is too great of an option. At this point I could care less it the President was coming in; there was no way I was not going to get my reward.



I slowly unfasten each shoe. Slowly sliding it off each beautiful foot. At this point you begin calling one of your friends to catch up on some chatting. You hand me your bag to retrieve the polish and the lotion that will be my tools for the next 20 minutes. I gently cradle your right foot in my hands. The morning sun is now a blessing as the rays of light illuminate each toe. The sun shimmers off of your leg as your coat parts ever so slightly as you raise your foot. I begin painting each nail. As you talk away, I am tempted to try and part your leg even further in an attempt to obtain just a peak of what lies under the coat for me. But the risk is too great. If you want me to see under the coat then you will allow me. You are fully aware of my desires and the way visual stimulation rewards my good behavior.



As I finish the first foot, you complete your call. You look down at my work and tell me that I had better hurry if I wanted to have time for my reward. I quickly begin the same process for the left foot. Oh how I want to start at each toe and slowly lick up her entire body. But I must stay focused, if the pedicure is not perfect and on time, there will be no reward.



As I finish the last toe, you begin another call. At this point you look down at me and place your toes right in front of my mouth; I slowly blow on each toe to ensure the polish is completely dry. The desire to kiss each toe is unbearable. My dick is now straining to seek release from my kaki trousers. But I must remember the goal. Anything less than my reward will be useless.



You tell your friend you are available for dinner tonight. You tell her you have just bought the perfect shoes to show off the pedicure you are getting. I begin massaging the lotion into your feet. I carefully massage each toe. I use long strokes through the arches of your feet up to your ankle. As I complete your second foot, you tell your friend to hang on for one second while you grab something.



You grab me by my collar and pull me on top of my desk. I am lying flat on my back staring at the ceiling. You stand over my head facing my feet. I look up and realize that not only are you not wearing any panties, your are not wearing anything under the coat. My dick is beginning to twitch. You notice this and quickly step on it with your freshly painted toes. You tell me that I still have work to do and you are in a hurry. You tell your friend you are back as you slowly lower yourself onto my face.



As I watch you bend your knees, I have the pleasure to watch as your beautiful pussy begins to open up for me. I take in your heavenly scent as you continue to lower yourself. Each leg is now bent on the side of my head. You squeeze your legs together to ensure I know exactly where I am to lick. I slowly allow my tongue to begin exploring your heavenly area. I begin by lightly licking in the area between your pussy and your asshole. I then run my tongue up to the entrance of your pussy. You slowly begin to slide back to force my tongue to find your clit. You do not have much more time and you need to cum before your appointment. You continue talking on the phone as you squeeze my head forcing my tongue to reach further for your clit. As my tongue stretches, my nose begins to tickle your asshole. I cannot help but



slightly move my head back and forth in an effort to stimulate you even more with my nose. You feel me nuzzling your asshole and squeeze your legs tighter. You reach back with your free hand and grab my hair. You hold me head in place as you begin to rub your pussy up and down my face. As you move down my face you allow my tongue to lightly lick your asshole. You begin to notice the precum saturating my pants. You tell me I had better concentrate on your pleasure not mine. I return my tongue to your wonderful slit. You get up and turn around in an effort to further reinforce that you are in charge. You again place each leg around my head in a vice grip fashion. You grab my hair and begin grinding your pussy on my tongue. As your orgasm builds I begin to feel the wetness escaping and running all over my face. I am in heaven at this moment. The wonderful taste and smells.



It is too much for me to handle. I begin aggressively licking and sucking at any part of you within my mouths reach. You pull my hair even harder as you pull my head up to concentrate on your clit. I am licking and sucking on your clit. I am sure I will get my reward. This effort will surely not go unrewarded. You place the phone on mute as your orgasm reaches its peak. Your legs squeeze my head to the point where I think it will pop. I grab your clit in my mouth and place a steady pressure on it as your ride each orgasmic wave. I feel your juices cover my face.



You tell our friend you will call her back, you look deeply into my eyes as you slide back onto my chest. You look at your toes and tell me that I have earned my reward. I may now kiss your lips. You slowly kneel above me and part your coat to fully expose your pussy. I slowly lift my head and gently kiss your beautiful pussy lips taking in the feel and taste of every second of the blissful reward.



You then tell me that you have to leave, but to be ready for tonight. You do not know if you really like the color of the polish.

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