objectification

I was so excited when I got back to my flat I didn’t even wash Mali’s juices off my face. I just ran into the bathroom and began tugging away like a crazy monkey.



The last few weeks doing her washing and wondering who this mystical task mistress was… and then her, almost without any words standing over me while I cleaned her bathroom in a French maids outfit… and locking me outside forcing me to shave my legs in full view of… God I was cumming hard and… ‘Oh God’ it was spurting out of me onto the bathroom wall. I cleaned my own bathroom in that maids dress without underwear and masturbated to orgasm five more times imagining Mali standing over me.



Nothing was coming out after the third time but I still managed to get some on my dress. I got a hard on thinking about washing the frilly satin dress and hanging it on the common washing line… I almost went again, I felt exhausted and ecstatically happy. Mali had given me more pleasure and excitement from a few house chores than I had ever gotten from any amount of blowjobs and porn.



I slept naked, enjoying the new sensation of hairless legs and junk. I woke several times to relieve myself, each time whispering:



“Thank you Mali.”



I woke an hour earlier than usual, full of energy and wanted to wear my maids dress out to do the morning washing. The fear of getting caught cross-dressing now replaced with a sense of duty to put on a good show for hot little Mali.



I showered and almost put it on when I saw the cum on the apron, it was still damp from my marathon self pleasure session last night.



I dressed in the only clothes Mali had left me, pink boxers, white knee high socks and those charcoal grey breeches and tight white collared shirt. I gathered yesterday’s clothes and felt a strong feeling that I had forgotten something. It was so strong I could not open my door.



Confused I looked around my small studio… The cravat! I tied it on quickly thinking she would notice that I always wore her present…



I walked to the outdoor laundry between our two buildings with a massive hard on.



As expected there was the pink net bag Mali had been subtly training me to wash for her sitting on top of the washer. No thank you note this time… but rather than the mix of skimpy clothes and sexy underwear she usually put in there were five protective in-wash bags. Two with unit 5 and two with unit 9 written in nail polish and under those Mali’s familiar zipped bag with her sexy clothes from last night.



I washed and hung out the clothes grouped in their unit number and hung the bags with them as a marker. It was lucky I was early, the extra hanging time ate up most of my start and I had to rush to make the train to work.



I had been wearing the same outfit to work for a few days in a row now and I would have normally gotten snide remarks but the office girls just smiled and continued with their lingering looks and mock sexual harassment. In those tight pants getting a semi was very visible and I think a few people noticed. They just smiled and didn’t remark to my face.



All day I was full of energy wondering what was in store for me under Mali’s thumb –or thighs. I laughed at my own mental joke on the train and then felt like a bit a freak and pretended to read a text from my phone to cover it.



I got home and took in the washing. I delivered the wash to the units in Mali’s building. Same as before I knocked and said:



“Hello, I have your washing”



To which the occupant looking through the peephole just waited silently till I put the bag at the door and left. I was glad they were women’s clothes and had a little fantasy about who was on the other side of the doors.



I took my stuff in, including the apron I had separated from he maids dress to wash. On my doorstep there was a shoebox waiting for me. The black and white patent leather golf shoes I was wearing were stretching but still uncomfortable so I was happy that I could wear something else.



I took it inside and opened it to see four silver rings with tissue paper inside them. They looked like hand made silver napkin rings… but not… they were different sizes and shapes; The one at the base was thick with a curved barb on each end, in the middle two kind of hour glass shapes and the last one was thin like a bangle. All running over a tissue paper snake.



I lifted them out of the shoebox and they were connected at the top by three silver rods linked together like a chain… or …like one of those collapsible walking sticks.



The middle two rings had what looked like erotic images of an orgy and a beautiful Goddess with four arms and sharp teeth. She was standing on a man holding a paddle and a dildo in two hands and was naked except for a skull necklace and spiky skirt, earrings and hat. Many other figures naked and stylised in a rounded Hindu way, ran around the yo-yo middle shaped rings. As I turned it around I could see the tissue running through it was in the shape of a cock and balls. Underneath was that familiar blank thank you card.



I wanted it on the instant I figured out where it was supposed to go. Pulling the tissue paper away I saw there was a bulbous shaped tube running half way along the center. I had never seen anything like that before, but from its position I guessed that it was supposed to slide up inside my cock. The tube in the middle had two bumps on it and was curved with two thin silver hooks forming a kind of C shape on the end. I was unsure as to how to put it all together.



Removing the tissue completely I saw that the thick end was a cockring, I had seen these before and out of the tissue the silver set of rings came apart into six pieces. I slid the cock ring down my cock and had to pull my balls through one at a time. I was only flaccid and it was still a tight fit. As it slid into place I felt notches inside, not sharp but pointed. I looked in the mirror to see the wide ring pushing my freshly shaven balls out and one barb, pressing against the spot between my legs lifting my cock and balls up and the other barb separating my balls so they hung out sideways. This was very cool.



I tried to put the other rings on but they were split at the top. The stick chain had slipped out and needed to be threaded through the hoops at the top of the rings to hold the hinged cuffs closed around the shaft. The bulbus tube looked interesting, I wondered if I could stretch it enough to get it inside. I licked it and it tasted of old metal. It slid in OK at first but started to sting very quickly. Pulling it out a little and it itched and stung more so I slid it all the way in carefully. The end had a little silver C shape on the end. As it slid all the way in I could see the bumps on the outside of my shaft and the c shape divided the head of my cock like two little breasts.



I put the thin ring behind my head and slid the chain rod in. The thin band pinched and I had to push it together with the C shape hard to get them to fit in the grove of the tube. It was looking great. A big silver ring pushing out my balls, a wavy pattern in my shaft and the head of my cock divided by a thin silver cleavage with a thin collar just behind the head. Very exotic I thought.



I took the other two cuffs and placed them between the bumps from the tube on the shaft of my cock. Then went on easy but I felt a pinch there too. I slid the chain rod through the loops at the top of the cuffs and they stayed. There was quite a bit of extra chain and it started to slide out as soon as I let it go.



I pushed the end of the chain rod all the way. Going through the three loops holding the ring cuffs on and then into the last little hoop at the top if the cockring around my balls. I had to push the ring hard and rod chain around my head and it clicked closed and firmly squeezing the head of my cock between the ring around the shaft and the wire running down the middle.



The head of my cock now bulging either side of the shiny silver harness. I looked at it in the mirror and got a big rush. Quickly, before I was too hard I poked the rod through all the way to the cockring at the base of my shaft.



The last click took some effort and with it all the rings pinched the skin badly. I was flaccid, but the curve of the internal tube was bending me like a tea pot spout and the flesh along the shaft bulged out from between the rings.



The last push pinched sharply, the pain was electric; every movement felt like it was tearing off very sensitive skin.



I looked in the mirror again. I was naked, bent over making a face and my cock and balls were locked into a shiny sliver cage. The shaft pink and bulging in very round full bumps between the rings. Waggling out in front of me as I looked in the mirror I had seen this before…



Slowly, I turned away from the mirror and my stumpy cock sticking out and waggled painfully as I turned and I looked for the release catch. Touching it stung and moving stung as it rocked back and forth poking out. It had just fallen apart when I took it out of the tissue, so it had to open… …somehow.



I looked closely at the engravings I had mistaken for an orgy, there it was engraved on the side of my silver clad cock. Men hunched over like me, naked wearing the same rows of cock rings. Not in the ecstasy of orgasm but in pain from their cock cages. Women were standing over them wearing nothing but jewellery, smiling and taunting. Not an orgy, but CBT domination. I got the joke, but the pain wasn’t subsiding.



I examined the device carefully and all I found was the male figures, naked doing chores, being slapped or pleasuring the stylised bubble breasted Thai women engraved on the rings. Some time passed and I started to deflate. Still bulging out of the sides but no longer pinching. The relief was intoxicating. I looked back at the mirror and saw my cock, short and very bumpy and rounded, like it was made from ruber inner tubes. And poking out, curved down then out like the end of an elephants trunk. I decided to stop playing with it and just wear the thing for a while until I got an idea about removal.



I went to the kitchen to make coffee so I could think. As I walked my cock swayed from side to side slapping my thighs and pinching. I grabbed hold to adjust, but he slightest pressure anywhere and the rings bit and pinched badly.



In the light of he kitchen I could see that the rod chain was a sawtooth shape and as it went though the loops of the rings, pushing them toward me opened the cuff and relieved the pinching, but pulling forward tightened them, pinching quickly.



So it was a one-way latch. To remove it… …maybe I would need to loose some skin. I chose to leave it in place for a while and hope that my boredom deflated me enough to escape. Making the coffee naked in the kitchen my mind wandered. Before I realised I was doubled over in pain. The daydream had partially inflated me and the tension on the rod chain was pinching me and curling my shaft upward, now curving so much I was pointed straight up and squeezing my balls so the skin was tight and shiny.



I tried to touch it but it just made the pain worse. I kept looking at it, silver bound and bulging like a fat beaded necklace… no, not like a necklace, like something else I had seen.



I limped to my computer and Google imaged “sex toy”. That was a mistake. The added blood flow had me chanting and humming in pain. And I didn’t see it. A few pages of scrolling and I saw it “Contoured but plug.” My cock and balls were now the shape of a rubbery anal sex toy.



My mood mixed. I thought this is what Mali wants and got another jolt of pinching pain from the indulgent thought.



Naked and sex toy internet shopping wasn’t reducing my swelling. I got dressed and drank my coffee. There was no comfortable way to sit, the outline of the… I don’t even know what to call this… Thai cock ring? I did some more internet searches thinking I might be able to find out how it worked if I could find out what it was. I found CBT devices and Penis plugs and all manner of chastity cuffs and belts. I guess it was most like the gates of hell device, but also with urethra insert… an hour of staring at cock locked up like mine and I was starting to daydream again. Not about other guys dick but about being locked up for Mali…



I was in real, not fun, pain now and concerned I was doing some significant damage. I grabbed my keys and headed over to Mali’s building. I buzzed the buzzer but got no answer. I buzzed again a few minutes later and thought she might be out. I walked around to the washing line to look up for lights on in her apartment.



She was standing smiling looking down from her balcony. I said,



“I need to talk”



She shook her head.



“I am… …in trouble… … um… with your, gift. ” Searching pointlessly, I couldn’t find adequate words.



She said,



“Wait.”



And returned with her phone. I was a little unsure what that meant, but was happy to be getting some assistance. Mali called down,



“Show me.”



I stepped fully into the floodlight and hesitated. Mali leaned forward and said nothing. I unzipped my breeches and dropped them and my shorts to my ankles. Mali looked on and lifted her phone. She made a twirl with her finger for me to turn around. I started to turn and got struck with another blindingly painful pinch.



Mali laughed her coarse little laugh as she filmed me with her phone, bent over in pain. A car started down the drive and I fell over pulling up my pants in a hurry. Mali continuing to film me on the ground called down to me:



“See you tomorrow boy.”



I got up but she had gone inside. I felt upset; I had to fight thinking about Mali so I didn’t get any painful inflation. A female neighbour said hello to me on my walk back to my flat. Just the sound of her voice enough to give me a good pinching. I nodded, walking was smoothly as possible and went inside.



A knock on my door startled me just a few seconds after I closed it. The neighbour that had spoken to me, an early 50s stocky woman I had noticed a few times but never spoken to was at the door. She asked me for my help carrying a plant she had bought from her car to her unit, two levels above mine.



I said OK, because I couldn’t think of a way to explain why not… I got the mini palm and carried it up to her place. She held the doors open for me and gave my ass a rub on the way into her unit.



I asked her where it would go and she just stared at my crotch for a few seconds. I suggested the balcony and she said,



“Yes, anywhere is fine thanks young man.”



I was feeling the pinch at the thought of this woman luring me up for a quickie. I put the plant down and she blocked the doorway. Grabbing my junk she said:



“This looks interesting. Can I help you… with that?”



I didn’t know what to do; I hoped that showing her the painful dick jewellery would spook her… She unzipped my and pulled the shiny silver ringed member out roughly.



I gasped in pain and she started blowing me. The stroke toward me was incredibly pleasurable but the sucking back stroke felt like it was shredding me.



After a few strokes she withdrew, her teeth chattering over the lumps of engorged shaft.



“My …this is interesting, how painful is it?”



She gave it a tug and I yelped.



“Well there is only one thing to do then.”



She grabbed hold and pulled me down on my knees, stepped on the head of my cock and thrust her pussy in my face. It was surprisingly easy to get her off. She came in just a minute or so and let me up and gave my swollen lumpy mass a hard pat.



“Would you like to me to finish you off?”



I shook my head at her request and she asked:



“Why don’t you take it off?” with that she gave it a big pull.



“I can’t get it off.” I answered through gritted teeth.



A smile widened across her flushed face. She went down on me again, this time running her teeth across my head and balls. I struggled in pain but could not get free. I said:



“Please stop, its hurting me.”



She continued a little rougher.



“Please, I’ll do anything, please stop.”



“Anything?” she looked up at my pain filled face with a good grip on my member.



“Well, fuck me for five minutes and I’ll let you go.”



I agreed to her ultimatum even though I had no idea how. I was very hard, in severe pain and this seemed like a really bad idea. She undressed me on the way to her bed and slipped off her panties. She sat me on the bed and put a pillow under my ass before laying me on my back. She took a condom and rolled it on, splashed on some watery lube and climbed on top.



The weight of her on top of me pushed the cockring deeper inside me with a painful sting. As she rode me, the thrust strokes felt great, but the withdrawal pinched and stung. I was making hee-hor noises like a donkey, up stroke pain, then down thrust ecstasy. After just a few minutes and some hip circling from my rider she came again with a very happy vocalisation. The muscle contractions inside her feeling like they were tearing and ripping though me.



She started to slide back with a big smile on her face and I felt the most intense joint. Instinctively I grabbed her waist and pulled her back on top of me. She gave me a squeeze with her pelvic floor muscles and I withdrew from the pain.



“That’s two nothing to me love.” She quipped.



I was in agony. She climbed down and pulled my pants up for me and got my shirt.



“If you want to stay honey, we will need to look at that five minute arrangement…”she said in a mock threatening tone.



I took my shirt and left for downstairs. I was so horny I could barely take it. I would have screwed that woman like a wild man if it wasn’t for this torture device. All night I tried to avoid thinking of sex or touching myself. I never knew before how often I did that.



I fell asleep after hours of horny torture and had to get up to pee. To my shock nothing came out. A new itchy stinging feeling started to grow as I felt the pressure build inside my cock. Stinging and pushing the pain grew sharply. I fumbled around the end of the head jewellery and found a little plug. I took my scissors and twisted the slot on the plug. Spraying myself in the face with urine as I did. I jumped into the shower and sprayed the rest of the wee out. I felt good.



I went back to sleep, waking every hour or so in pain from night wood.



To be continued.

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