Posts Tagged ‘orgasm control’

He watched her as her trembling hands gripped the edge of her desk, her dark eyes pleading with him. His thumb hovered above the button on the remote, waiting, waiting. Her body slammed back into her chair and her hips thrust upwards and just at the moment, he flicked the button, the vibrator falling silent immediately. She bit her lip hard against the sob that welled up inside her, gingerly settling back down onto her plugged ass and quietly catching her breath for the third time in 30 minutes. He continued to watch her intently, as she settled back into the conference call she had been on. Since she didn’t have to actively participate, he decided it was a good time to get some edging back in again, as they hadn’t done it in so long. Now that they shared a home office, it made it easier for him to exert the control she readily granted him, though he was pretty sure at the moment she was wishing she hadn’t.

He decided not to allow her to mute her mic at all, forcing her to put into practice all the years of training they’d implemented together. So far, she was doing quite well. Not a moan, squeak or cry had escaped her lips and he was quite proud of her. The call was to last for at least another half an hour and he wondered if she’d be able to maintain her silence. He typed into the IM window to her, “Tell me about your clit.” She did her best not to glare at him, knowing it would only add fuel to his fire, and typed back, “Harder than ever, swollen, throbbing and feels like it’s still vibrating.” He nodded and knew it was time to give it a short rest. He picked up another remote and showed it to her. He chuckled as her eyes widened and her head slowly started to shake back and forth, realizing just then that the thick plug that held his cum inside her tight ass, since early that morning, was a vibrating one.

Her eyes shifted to the clock. It had only been two minutes since the butterfly vibe on her clit had turned off; he couldn’t already be thinking it was time to…oh fuck. Her body jerked as it came to life inside her ass. “Sit harder,” came his command in her window. She lifted her eyes to his as she obeyed, her legs spreading wider so she more easily push down against the hard chair beneath her. “Grind on it, just how you rode my cock this morning.” Again, she complied and soon was rocking back and forth, fucking the long plug, knowing it was churning his cum inside her slutty ass. Her hands moved to her spread thighs, gripping onto them as she rode the plug, barely catching the loud gasp as he turned the speed up. His hand reached down to tug at his cock through his shorts. Watching his slut perform for him, put all her training into action right before his eyes was making it very difficult for him sit still.

He rose from his chair to walk over and stand in front of her. He reached down and shoved up her tank top to reveal her full tits, the thick nipples still red from his teeth that morning. His fingers latched onto them, tugging them at the base, squeezing as she rode the plug. He sent it up to highest speed and watched as she started to bounce. He knew it had to hurt, somewhat. It was the biggest plug they’d ever used and while it wasn’t huge, it was substantial and she had been wearing it for hours before they even started playing. He watched in admiration as she fought through the pain, using it to add to her lust, her desire to please him. He leaned down and whispered in the ear that wasn’t covered by her headset, “Good girl.” He turned off the vibrator and slid his hand to the back of her hair, pressing her cheek against his cock through his shorts. He rubbed his thick length against her face, letting her inhale his scent, letting her know what her compliance was doing to him. He stepped back and took in the site of her. Her thighs were wide open, her panties utterly soaked already, the outline of the butterfly pressed against the thin pink material. Her tits hung out beneath her pushed up tank and he reached into his other pocket to withdraw the clamps. He flipped them onto her desk before heading back to his.

The words appeared as he typed, “Not yet, but you will wear them, soon. Tug aside your panties and shove three fingers in. Right against your gspot and don’t touch that buttefly. NOW!” She shoved the material over and worked in three fingers immediately, her head dropping back in utter pleasure as the tips of them rolled over the swollen spot. “Press, then rub, 10 seconds then stop for 30. Do this 10 times.” She did nothing to stop the glare this time and he mentally noted to remind her with the cat to her cunt that her glares only served to make it worse and extend her torment. His cock thumped as he remembered the screams she let out for him last time he used it on her tormented unrelieved pussy before forcing her to cum so much she passed out. He refocused his attention on her current task, noting it only took her 6 times before her thighs started shaking. She was panting, silently each time the 10 seconds came to an end. By the time she finished with all 10 rounds, she was shivering, simmering in lust. He knew damn well that gspot play alone wouldn’t be enough to make her cum but it would ratchet up her need to even more once he turned the butterfly back on.

“You have a choice,” He typed to her. “I can start the butterfly now and edge you on and off for the next ten minutes, and yeah, I know you’re about a second away from orgasm. Or you can bend over your desk, take out that plug and I’ll fill you with another load, right now, while you’re on the call. No orgasm, no noises and it’s going right back in.” She looked at him, truly torn. He held up 10 fingers and started counting them down. At the last moment, she quickly stood up and shoved her panties down, her eyes on his as she reached back to tug at the plug tightly embedded inside her. He groaned inwardly, and quickly stood up and went to her, watching as she shook her tush to help ease out the plug. Finally, with the softest of gasps, she freed it and she put it up right on the desk. She glanced back at him, biting her lip again, hard against the moan as his thick cock came into view. He spit down on his head and she gripped onto the desk, forcing herself to relax, her ass sore from keeping the plug inside for the past few hours.

With a solid but gentle push, his cock sank into her ass. As always, he loved how he fit inside her ass. Tight but not painfully so and he knew her cunt was dripping from the mix of pain and pleasure she was experiencing. She had ridden him hard that morning, which wasn’t a surprise considering his hand was spanking her wide open cunt while she did. He leaned over a bit, gripping hard onto her thick dark hair and tugged her back to him, forcing an arch in her back. Slowly, he eased back and forth, not wanting to hurt her but his need to cum was great. His heavy balls swung forward to slap against her slippery cunt and the sound of it spurred him on to move faster, deeper, harder. Somehow, she maintained her silence, though he noticed her knuckles were white as she gripped the desk edge. He played with the idea of flipping on the butterfly, forcing her to cum but even he didn’t want to humiliate her like that, knowing full well she’d scream herself hoarse. Instead, as he neared his orgasm, he leaned and whispered, “My good ass slut, take it baby, gonna cum right in this thirsty ass of yours and we’re not nearly done. Hours of torment ahead of you, you won’t be cumming for a long damn time. Your pleasure is mine. Every. Single. Bit.” He punctuated the last words with hard pounding thrusts and with a hard grip on her hair, drove in deep and filled her ass with an even bigger load of cum than he had earlier.

Sometime during the fucking, her call had ended, and she reached over to hit the button on the phone and then throw off her headset, just as he emptied his balls. She cried out, slamming back to ride out the moments with him, feeling his cock twitch, urging him to fuck her through it, use her hard, bring her to the edge again just by doing so. His hand eased up to wrap against her throat and he drove his cock entirely into her, stretching the tight rim to its maximum, pulling her mouth to his, their groans meeting loudly. Finally, he eased out of her, and grabbed the plug quickly, not wanting a single drop to escape her, and guided it right back into her stretched ass. He gave her a moment to adjust to the rubber, growling softer as he heard her sob softly, knowing it was from the discomfort of it, and her insane need to cum. He tugged her off the desk and eased her onto a more comfortable chair, though right back onto that plug. His hand reached down and pushed her thighs open, even as she was doing it herself. He stood in front of her, his cock smeared in cum, his balls soaked with her juices. She leaned in and started lapping at his flesh, moaning at the taste of them on his cock, then let out a loud cry as the butterfly came to life. Her eyes raised up, smeared with tears as her body started responding, rocking on the plug while her mouth slurped his cock and balls clean.

“Hours…” he whispered as his thumb eased up the speed, smirking as she cried out, her mouth on his balls, her sore ass bouncing on the plug, her torment only beginning.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she growled to him. Her hands slid down the bodice of costume, her fingertips gliding against the smooth black and yellow leather criss-crossing her torso. The soft mesh and obviously see-through material beneath it rubbed against her soft skin and she groaned as it did so across her thick nipples. They both watched her hands travel along her curves, smoothing out the material and adjusting it so that the leather framed her breasts perfectly. The design was impeccable and the tailor did an amazing job, working with them both to ensure the fit and to satisfy both of their wants and needs. Hers were simple: to show off her figure and not to dig into her skin as she’d be wearing it for several hours. His, much more elaborate. He required that it tied like a corset in the back. He insisted on garters to hold up the honeycomb-designed black stockings that adorned her legs. He specified that the material beneath the leather be soft against her skin and sheer enough to see her nipples where the leather parted perfectly. Even in public, he wanted access to them.

The final item he requested was firmly in his hand. Her eyes glanced down the mirror as they stood before it, his fingers flexing and turning it slowly. She still hadn’t seen it properly, which was his intention. Her reactions of anger, embarrassment, protest and finally stubborn acceptance that the subject wasn’t up for discussion made him realize that its visual presence would only heighten the nerves that had been building up about it for the past month. She had mentioned one night how fun it would be to have a Halloween party at the club he owned and turn it into a benefit for one of the local charities. He agreed wholeheartedly, knowing full well it would be both a financial and social success, given the clientele who frequented the club. It had a reputation of catering to a more deviant crowd but was welcoming to patrons of any persuasion, as long as they came with open minds and caused no problems. Tonight, however, was specifically for the D/s crowd. And the day that part of her costume was decided was a day neither of them would forget.

When they decided to go with a bee theme a couple of months ago, the name of the club changed to The Hive, temporarily. She joked that she was the queen bee for the night. He chuckled at first but the comment sent his mind racing. Within the hour, decisions regarding their personas, “benefits” available to club members, and which charity would benefit were made. He actually agreed to her being “Queen Bea” for the night and he would, of course, be the Keeper. They decided to go with complete name changes, only answering to “Bea” and “Keeper”. The men and women they employed would be dressed as drones and worker bees, respectively, ready to serve in any way needed. They figured out pricing for all levels of membership, including increasing the amount for the few private rooms they had for those needing more intimate, and less publicly legal, experiences. With help from the club manager, everything was finalized in a matter of days, including all the advertising.

Then, when they were discussing their costumes, he mentioned one item she hadn’t thought of: her stinger. How not only would it be custom made, but it would also have two very specific uses. One, it could be use as a punisher, a short whipping rod that would easily mark up skin beautifully, but do little harm. She grinned at this, which faded quickly as he informed her of its other use. As a plug, in her ass, designed not to slip and not to harm her considering she’d be wearing it all night long.

Knowing better, but not caring, she went off on him. He sat back in his chair, arms crossed, watching and listening to her every word intently. They did not have a relationship that was only dictated by what he desired, though hers often matched his, one of many reasons they worked so well together. This time, it was clear that was not the case. Her protests were numerous. He watched as she paced a short distance back and forth, her voice clear but somewhat shaky as she told him each one. That it was pure and simple public humiliation, something neither of them were into. That wearing it would deride her position as the co-owner of the club, with both the employees and the members. If she would have looked at him at this point, she would have seen the flash of irritance the skated across his face for a moment. She continued on instead. That she’d never be able to wear it for 8+ hours without it harming her in some way. That it would slip out, that someone would get drunk and try and pull it, on and on until finally, he put up his hand and softly told her he’d heard enough. To be honest, all that she said was almost enough to make him consider giving her an option to refuse.

Instead, he gestured her closer, so that she was right in front of him. He held back the smirk that threatened to curl his lips as she did so, her arms crossed now in utter defiance. Her dark eyes glistened, betraying that stubbornness just a bit. His head tilted slightly and he watched her for a moment more, choosing his words carefully before he spoke.

“You’re right, my dear. All of those things could happen and to a degree, this is humiliation. And I made a promise to you not to ever do so in public. But I wonder why, after all this time, you would believe that you couldn’t handle this, if I believe you can. Why you would believe that I would allow others to put you down. Why you wouldn’t think that I would have thought out every single aspect of this before I even mentioned it to you. It seems to me that you are forgetting your place with me. Yes, you are the co-owner of the club. But you seem to believe ours is a democratic relationship, which it is not. You pledged your submission to me. I have earned your trust and in doing so, it is expected of me that I will guide you as I see fit. For both of us. We are not discussing this further. You will be wearing the stinger as a plug. Is that clear?”

The realization of what she had done hit her quickly. Her arms unlocked as she nodded, replying to him with a strong, “Yes, Sir.” Her hands crossed at the wrists behind her back, her legs eased open just a little more, while her head tipped down just slightly, her eyes still locked on his. There was nothing she could do to stop the couple of tears skimming down her cheeks and she didn’t care. She felt humiliated, brought on by her own insolence. She gasped, the touch of his hand against her thigh under her skirt surprising her. She hadn’t even seen him move.

“If the idea is so reprehensible to you, then why is your cunt soaked?” He yanked down her damp panties to her mid-thighs and worked three fingers into hot tight wet entrance. Her hips pushed forward and he growled at her, “Stay still, slut.” She complied immediately and was rewarded by a rough shove of his fingers, making her take them all at once. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, her tight cunt twitching around his thick fingers, squeezing hard each time the tips dragged over that sweet spot inside her. His free hand shoved her short skirt up higher, revealing all her bare flesh to him. For a good five minutes, they watched each other as he fucked her pussy, keeping away from her distended swollen clit. His eyes dropped to watch it and his glistening fingers and he started to undo his belt. She groaned at the sound of it being pulled from his jeans, convinced he’d be undoing those next. But she was wrong.

“I bet you already need to cum, don’t you cunt,” he growled at her. She nodded quickly then growled back as his fingers immediately pulled from her with loud wet slurp. His eyes narrowed as he pushed forward a bit in his chair, licking his fingers one by one. “Too bad. Over my lap. Now.”

She blinked and in that moment, he gripped her left arm and pulled her down right over him. “How much will you revert tonight? Do you need refreshers in all your training? Apparently I have been remiss in keeping up with reminders of your place with me!” Thankfully she remembered to spread her thighs as wide as he required, so wide her muscles protested immediately. He gripped one hand into her thick black hair and the other took up his belt. No warning, the punishment started.

The doubled belt packed quite a wallop. Within just a few strikes to her exposed ass and thighs, she started yelping with each one. It didn’t take long to cover every part of each cheek with thick red stripes. But he needed to continue. Down her thighs the whipping continued, until the belt designed her flesh to the back of her knees. She lay sobbing over his lap, her back still arched as he held tight to her hair. Still not convinced, he changed the angle of the belt and landed three hard strikes to her literally dripping wet pussy. The first two brought renewed enthusiasm to her screams and his cock throbbed from the sound. The last one landed the hardest, the tip of the belt whipping across her clit. Her body surged in his lap, the stinging pain on that most sensitive part of her body ripping through her and turning into the dark pleasure she craved from him. She pushed her ass up so that her pussy didn’t touch anything, afraid if it did, she’d cum immediately.

He knew it too. While she writhed in his lap, he took a deep breath and dropped the belt, slowly turning her in his lap, her back against his front, her reddened flesh meeting his jeans. She jerked at the initial contact but stilled herself, not wanting to rub into the material. His hand stayed in her hair and pulled her head back to kiss her hard. His cock was hard, unyielding against her backside and he ground it into her, loving the noises she made for him. His free hand yanked at her blouse, the buttons popping off as the material ripped. She winced at the pull of the blouse against her body before it fell away. He growled against her lips to lose the bra and she did so quickly. Her skirt remained hiked up around her waist and she moved to take it off, somehow, but he shook his head.

His hand tugged her head, to expose her neck and he went for it. His teeth dug in, making her cry out, which she did again as he started to slap her tits. He kept grinding into her punished backside and thighs and the mix of sensations quickly started to overwhelm her. Her hands gripped into his forearms, as she rode his lap, bouncing between it and his hand landing over and over on her tits. Soon, the color of them matched her ass and thighs and he went to work on her nipples. His nails dug in, the pressure making her twist in pain as he yanked them. She screeched out an apology and followed it up with a plea that he fuck her. He chuckled in her year, murmuring, “Oh don’t worry beautiful, I plan on it.”

And he did. Over the next several hours, he fucked her several times, in her mouth, her pussy, her ass, even her hands. In between he meted out more punishment. There was barely any part of her that wasn’t used in some way, even the bottoms of her feet. He had forgotten how it felt to fuck her spread cunt after he punished it with the cat o’ nine, especially while holding tight to the chain that linked her clamped nipples and clit. By the time he finished, he had cum three times and she was a dripping sweaty mess. Her voice was hoarse and her skin ached just from the air moving it. She was also left wanting, as he did not allow her to cum once. Instead, she rode the edge the entire time, pushed harder than he ever had and as he withdrew from her fucked open sore ass after dumping his load into her the last time, he told her she could cum. In three days. He enlisted help from one of the male switches at the club, to ensure she was edged every hour on the hour. Rich was eager to help out, for many reasons, not the least of which included his desire to fuck Bea silly. And he did so many times over his three day stay, culminating in a multi-hour fuckfest with Bea and her Keeper, though Rich received no sexual attention from him, nor expected any. He did come away with a new respect for both of them, her for her utter submission to him and him for the knowledge he imparted to Rich. He also could not believe how hard, how often, and how wet she came, once she was finally allowed. At the end of it all, Keeper even promoted him at the club, padded his wallet a bit, and sent him home on shaky legs.

Now, finally, the night had arrived. Keeper chuckled at her while he inspected her outfit and tugged a bit tighter on the ties of the corset. “You can’t believe it? Perhaps you need a reminder?”

She burst out laughing and mimed pushing him away from her. “No, Sir, no way, I do not need a reminder at all. But please, let me see it already!” He smirked at her and swished the exposed tail in the air a few times before spinning her around to face him. Her eyes dropped to the stinger in his hand and she groaned, her eyes wide, trying to take it all in. It was by far the biggest plug she’d ever worn. Her fingertips pressed along it, feeling the ridges of the plug, pausing at the biggest flare, the one that would ensure it wouldn’t slip at all. She bit her lip and moaned a bit. Her fingers continued down, running the length of the nearly foot long stinger then lifted it up. She was surprised at how light it was then realized that weight would only make it more difficult on her. A soft slow grin adorned her face and she leapt into his arms, hugging him close.

“Thank you,” she murmured in his ear.

He grinned at her, “Don’t thank me yet, we still need to get it in you. And I have the perfect way to do that.” His mouth dropped to hers and kissed her hard, until she moaned from the intensity of it. He tugged her lip with his teeth when he pulled away, moving to the door and gesturing at someone.

“Miranda, find Rich and get in here. We need your help with something.” He turned to find Bea frowning at him slightly. His brow raised, daring and chastising her at once for whatever was about to leave her lips. Her mouth closed quickly and he nodded, stepping aside to let in their employees.

Rich grinned at her as he made his way in, coming over to kiss her cheek and marvel at her costume. Miranda did the same, though with a bit less enthusiasm, a bit jealous her own bee costume was not as elaborate. Keeper stood with a widened stance and watched them all for a moment. “Our guests will be here soon so let’s get moving. Rich, Miranda, the last of Bea’s costume needs to be put on. She’s holding it in her hands. It’s going in her ass but it will take some work to get it in there. You’re both here to help prep her for it.” He glanced at Bea and smiled a bit, seeing the flush spread across her face.

“She’s nervous about wearing it all night long. As you are both managers, I’m hoping you’ll do your best to help one of your bosses be as comfortable as possible tonight.” Both nodded swiftly to him, and he nodded back, all while holding Bea’s gaze. “Good. Then Rich? Please guide Bea over the arm of the couch and get her ass nice and wet. Miranda, come here. Get my cock nice and wet.”

Rich and Miranda stood in stunned silence for a moment, before Rich took action. With a firm grip to Bea’s wrist, he pulled her over the couch and watched as her bare ass came into view beneath the black and yellow tutu that completed her outfit. He let out a soft groan at the site of her: round firm cheeks spread open a bit, her heeled feet holding firm to the floor in a wide stance, her hands reaching back to press to her ass, easing it open, urging him to begin. He dropped to his knees behind her and immediately started, his tongue driving right into her tight backside. Keeper stood to the side of them, watching Bea’s face as Rich devoured her ass, kissing licking nibbling at it. Miranda took to the floor in front of Keeper and had his leathers open in no time. His hand fisted into her blonde hair and his cock pushed into her open mouth, forcing her to take his thick hard length quickly. Bea smirked as she heard her gag loudly; there was no love lost between the two women. They respected each others’ positions in the club and actually worked rather well together. Miranda had made it known a few years ago she didn’t think Bea deserved Keeper and instead he should be with her. Keeper’s eyes darkened as his cock dropped down her spasming throat, holding it there until the last moment before he allowed her to breathe.

Within just a few minutes, both Bea and Keeper were panting, the scent of their desire filling the room. Rich tugged at his erection pushing against his tight leathers, wanting desperately to release it but not daring to until Keeper said to. Miranda was almost frantic from the hard mouth fucking Keeper was administering and finally he pushed her off, his fist taking the place of her wet mouth. “Bea, over here now,” he commanded as he dropped into his chair. Rich held out his hand to Bea to help her up and over the few feet to Keeper. He sat back on his heels, only to get up quickly as Keeper gestured him over. “Ass on my cock, right the fuck now Bea,” he growled at her. She growled back at him, glancing just for a moment at the stunned Miranda, who stood wide-eyed and seething that she was being left out. Keeper’s hands pushed to Bea’s waist as she eased down and gripped tight, letting her be the one to decide how fast she’d take him in. His thick head slid in, the path slickened by Rich’s tongue. She gasped and groaned the entire way down his length, whimpering as her cheeks met his body. “Fuck,” Keeper grunted, as he did every single time she took him deep into her tight ass. Her body in constant motion, wriggling on top of him, he smelled her wetness emanating from her spread pussy. “Rich, your mouth on her now. She cums when I cum, not a moment before.”

Rich pushed forward, his hands pushing to her thighs, his tongue lapping up her slit to roll over her swollen twitching clit. The mere action made her cry out, “Need to fuck, now, I need to fuck your cock!” Keeper growled his assent and his hands tightened on his waist, helping her ease up and down and take his entire length every time she dropped. He wished he’d thought to do this before she got dressed so he could access her tits but chuckled at himself, realizing he wouldn’t last much longer. Rich’s tongue was working Bea into a frenzy and he swore he could feel her cunt twitching along his cock through her ass. He grunted in effort and started thrusting harder, faster, taking control of her ride. Rich latched onto her clit with his pursed lips and tormented her clit, as he had learned to do expertly over the three days he spent with them. She screamed out, begging him to cum and he agreed, almost immediately, signalling her own allowed orgasm.

Miranda stood in awe, no longer angry, but completely drenched and in need. She knew better, though, than to even touch herself in Keeper’s presence, right at this moment. She shifted from one heel to the other, watching the pair convulse together, moaning under her breath as she watched Bea’s hand grip into Rich’s hair to keep his mouth in place as she rolled into multiple orgasms, utterly soaking his face. She shook her head a bit, hearing Keeper call her name.

“Miranda! Snap out of it. Go to the desk and get the lube. Drench that plug and bring it over here.” Her eyes narrowed for a moment, believing he meant to give her permission to plug her up for the night. She quickly complied though, completing her task and standing at attention while the three disentangled themselves. Keeper guided Bea into the chair, onto all fours with her ass pushing up into the air. Miranda bit her lip at the site of her ass: deep pink, cum smeared, straining to close. She stepped forward but stopped as she felt Keeper’s hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t think so,” he frowned at her, taking the stinger from her hands. He guided it right towards Bea’s cum-filled ass and slid it in, the final inch eliciting a loud cry from Bea, both from the size of it and the pressure in her freshly fucked ass. Rich rubbed a soothing hand over her cheeks, whispering to her as Keeper took Miranda aside. “Keep up the attitude Miranda and you’ll be out of the best job you’ve ever had. She’s here to stay and the sooner you truly respect that decision, the better it will be for all of us. Got it?” She nodded quickly, her arms crossing in front of her. Keeper sighed gently, “I don’t think you do. Rich, come here, I’ll take care of Bea. Miranda, lick Rich’s face clean. Every single motherfucking drop. And when you’re done, don’t drink a damn thing for an hour. And you will not cum tonight until I give you permission. If you will not comply, pack your things and go. I’m done.” He turned away and turned to Rich, whispering in his ear before he left Rich and Miranda on their own. He didn’t watch as she started to lap at Rich’s wet face, knowing she’d have left by now if she wasn’t going to. His attention was now all his Bea, who remained in the chair.

Today, my Master has ordered me to edge myself for ten minutes straight if I can use the toy – and twenty minutes straight if I have to use my hand, since it’s less intense than the toy. During that whole time I’m to think about what she’s already told me she’s going to do to me on Friday during our date – tie me down over a stack of cushions, fuck me in the ass, and force me to cum without permission, using either the toy or – god help me – her wand.

Oh, god. What have I got myself into?

Of course I will do as she orders. I always do, to the best of my ability. But I will probably have to do it in the bathroom, where my partner won’t be a witness to it. Not because I want to hide it from him, but because what my Master orders me to do is between me and her. I will have to sit there on the toilet for twenty minutes by my stopwatch, keeping myself on the edge but not cumming.

Oh, god.

I’m hard and horny just thinking about doing it. What am I doing? Is this really my life? Am I really an owned slave in the way I always longed to be?

I’m writing this while sitting in my office and wondering what else she might do to me. A plug? A dildo? Maybe a cock gag or clamps in painful places. Maybe… oh god, she wouldn’t make me wear a plug outside of the safety of my home, would she?

Of course she would. That’s who she is.

My ass is clenching and my cock is jumping, just thinking of it. I’m sitting here with my legs open so that I don’t close them tightly and stimulate myself more. I keep imagining it already – being tied down, ass up, cock exposed because of course she’ll have tied my legs as far apart as they can be spread, a pillow or two under my head but my chest exposed and available for clamps or whatever else she wants to do to me… and then the beginning of the scene.

I can feel her fingers stroking down my cock, pulling lightly on my balls, and then up into my ass crack. Pressing at my asshole, coaxing it to relax, while I force myself to relax the rest of me, blindfolded, gagged with a cock gag that forces me to suck like a good cocksucker should, pressing my tongue down to the side.

I moan into the gag as her fingers return with lube spread on them, and jump as the cold lube trickles down my crack to fill my puckered asshole. She draws a plug down my back, and I try desperately to gauge its length and thickness, but I can’t.

Then she places its tip into my hole and begins to press. Oh, god. Oh god! Oh god!! It is relentless – she is relentless – she’s pressing it deeper and deeper into me and still it’s getting bigger and bigger. Oh, god, couldn’t she have fucked me first, to stretch me? Is this her intent, to make me feel just how huge this plug is?

I scream into the gag, but I do not spread my hands in our “safe signal.” This is hard and it’s scary and I feel so violated, but I asked for this, I fantasized this. I want this. I feel her hand caressing my flank as she pushes, pushes, pushes… my ass spreading wider and wider as I remember to bear down on the plug to open myself further.

Suddenly, I feel it slide quickly, just a short distance, and then my stretched asshole clamps around the relatively narrow neck. The base, a wide rectangle, is rotated until it rests between my cheeks, keeping them parted. I begin to sob with relief that now it’s in – the worst is over until it comes out later, whenever “later” is.

She chuckles low in her throat and leans in to whisper in my ear, “There’s my good slut. My Laddie-buck.”

Conditioned to the word, I buck my hips, and the plug shifts deliciously, painfully, torturously in my ass. I moan again, and she slaps my ass, making me jerk again.

“You will not cum, slut. Do you understand?”

I moan into the gag, nodding my head against the steel collar constraining my neck. Of course I will not cum. My orgasms belong to her when we are in scene. I know that.

She draws a heavy paddle down my lower back, resting it on my ass, over the base of the plug. “You have been good, but you need to be punished for your rebellious thoughts when I ordered you to edge yourself on Wednesday. You must remember that my needs are always your focus, not your needs. My needs, laddie, not yours. You will remember it by the time we are done here, because you will be marked with the stripes of my punishment.”

I moan again, knowing it to be true. I should not have focused on my body’s raging need to cum – and I have not cum since Monday night – but on her need to control me and know that I am hers. That is the point – her need, not mine. And instead of focusing on that, my own mental babble during that interminable twenty minutes was “god I need to cum I need to cum please let me cum, it hurts, I need it, I’m so horny,” instead of what it should have been, “thank you, Master, for allowing me to edge myself; thank you, Master, for allowing me to touch myself at all; thank you, Master, for allowing me this sublime and needed torture for your pleasure.” I steel myself to the coming beating and do my best to remember over and over that my response to every stroke must be “Thank you Master,” not “ow, that hurts!”

The first stroke lands harder than I am prepared for. I remind myself that this is a punishment, and clench my hands tightly, determined not to safeword for anything less than a panic attack. The blows rain down on my exposed ass, connecting with the base of the plug every time, and fucking me on it. Oh god, thank you, Master.

My cock twitches and throbs, as hard as I’ve ever felt it, and the tips of my nipples sting in anticipation of what she might do to them if she thinks of it. I remember the scene she started to tell me about once, with the bit between my teeth and me on my hands and knees and all those threads tied to all those clamps and to the bit… and then I suck harder on the cock to remind myself that she could still do that, and to be grateful that this is just a beating. Thank you, Master. Thank you, Master.

She hits me harder, the whack of the paddle so loud that it rings in the room. I’m sobbing into the gag and my tears are wetting the padded inside of the blindfold, but I still hold on to the important thought: Thank you, Master. Thank you, Master…

She stops and her hand suddenly probes between my legs, stroking my incredibly hard cock. I gasp in spite of myself, sucking in air through my nostrils, tensing up as her fingers manipulate its hard, reddened head. “That’s my good slave. My good slut. Don’t you dare cum, laddie.”

“Mmmoh, Mm-mrrr,” I mumble around the cock in my mouth. She understands my words – “No, Master,” – and continues to stimulate me, my hips jerking uncontrollably as she does. Just at the moment when I’m sure I’ll be forced to break my promise – unthinkable! – she removes her hand and allows me to simply buck against the ropes, the plug shifting in my ass, my cock waving in the air at nothing. I realize what I’m doing and hold myself suddenly still, forcing myself to relax, to bring my cock down to something less than agonizingly close, and breathe slowly through my nose to try to get something like self-control back.

She doesn’t allow me the time to do that. Suddenly, the crop snaps across my thighs, and I scream into the gag. God, I hate the crop! But… Thank you, Master, for allowing me this pain. At least she hasn’t gone for the already-bruised buttocks… no, stop that thought now, slave. Think about Master. Thank you, Master, for this pain, no matter where you inflict it. All for you, Master. All for you.

I’m sobbing uncontrollably by the time she finishes, and my legs are striped like fine corduroy, ridged and welted from sweet spot to knees. I pant through my nostrils as she caresses my bruised ass and welted legs, trying so hard to make her proud of me.

She leans down into my ear again. “Good boy. Good Laddie-buck.”

My hips jerk automatically at the phrase, and I cry out into the gag, as my cock jumps back to hardness with the shifting of the plug in my ass. Even as I force myself to remember to thank her in my mind, my legs try to close to just… get… a little… more… stimulation….

Then I freeze again, and sternly remind myself that that is NOT what she ordered. I must be a good boy even if I feel like it’s going to make me crazy, because she owns my orgasms, not me. Not now, not ever again. They are hers for my life when I am with her.

Her hands probe me again, fingering just the tip of my cock, and I moan in ecstasy and agony. She knows how to read me well enough by now to bring me to the edge again and then let me hang there in mid-air, hips held still by force of will. But I do not cum.

She lets me hang there for a few minutes, her hands gentling me like a good horsewoman with a fine steed, before she disappears again. I am floating alone in the world, unable to see, unable to move, spread-eagled and helpless, desperately in need of cumming… and I do not mind it because it is all for her, as it should be. I float in the void, smelling wet leather and sex, and try to relax and accept whatever is coming next.

Her hands on the plug, some indeterminate time later shock me. What is she doing? Shouldn’t this be inside me for the whole scene? I moan again as she pulls it from my ass, my ring stretching and on fire as she finally gets the large part of the plug past my sphincter and then out. She leaves the room for a moment and I hear water running. I worry that she’s going to put an enema in me – something I have a soft limit about – but she comes back with something far more diabolical. Of course, I don’t quite realize what it is at first, but then the fresh lube on my opened ass tells me I’m not going to remain unplugged for long.

I feel cold steel entering my ass, a round shape and then a long, smooth cylinder. It’s far narrower than the plug or even the dildo she usually uses on me. Then I feel the cool length of the rest of the anal hook lying between my ass cheeks, and on my tailbone. She takes my head by the hair and pulls it up until I’m facing straight forward, and pulls out the cock gag. I work my jaw for just a moment, and then I feel a wooden rod placed between my teeth. Oh, god. Oh no! I know what’s coming now.

Sure enough, the ties on either end of the rod are pulled back, back, until my mouth is forced open by the wooden bit, and then I feel her fiddling with them. When I try to lower my head a little bit, she slaps me, hard, on my already-bruised ass, and commands me to stop at once. I do, freezing in place, feeling her tie the slim cords to the end of the anal hook and pull on them until my head is held upright and there is a steady pressure in my ass. I know her plan. Every time she hits or stimulates me, if I move my head, I will fuck myself for her with the hook. Oh, god… oh god! I’m already drooling as the bit pulls at the sides of my mouth, and I wonder how I must look to her, tied as I am, helpless and penetrated and welted and bruised.

She leans down to my ear once more. “Time to be edged, slut. If you cum, I will punish you severely.” And then a vibrator I’ve never felt before is pressed to the head of my cock, and I scream as it stimulates me to a point where I cannot control it. I know she likes to force me to cum without permission, but oh god, she’s said that I better not cum, but I want it, but she said no, but it hurts, and I want it, and it hurts, and -

No, wait -

Thank you, Master, for torturing me for your pleasure. Thank you, Master, for using me for your enjoyment. Oh god, thank you, Master, but please, please, it shreds me when you don’t give me permission or command, oh god, for your pleasure, thank you Master…

I cannot help jerking my head, like a maddened horse, and the stimulation of the anal hook riding up and down inside my ass just causes me to buck my hips, which further stimulates my cock against the horrible vibrating toy. I moan against the bit, feeling every pulse of the vibrator as a separate hard stimulation, and grasp the ropes extending from my wrist cuffs to force myself to endure it. I will NOT cum, I tell myself, and I will NOT safe-signal. I will NOT. I will NOT… oh god, thank you Master, thank you, Master…

The agonizing ecstasy never seems to slow. She knows just how to back off and keep me riding the edge without climax. Every time I think I’m going over, the vibration disappears, leaving my twitching cock hanging in empty space. I try to hold myself still but find myself fucking my own ass with the jerking of my head, and just as the agony/ecstasy recedes to a nearly manageable place, the vibration begins again. I don’t know how many times she does this to me but each time is worse/better than the last. I hold on to that thought, “Thank you, Master,” for dear life as she teases, tortures, edges me over and over and over again.

Then, suddenly, it stops and the vibrator is taken away. “Laddie-buck,” comes her voice, and my instinctive reaction, moving the hook in my ass. I cry out as it does. “Laddie,” she amends her next address. “We are almost done. You have taken your punishment well. Now you may earn a reward.” As she speaks, I feel her locking new cuffs around my welted thighs, with a bar between them to keep me spread, and a similar, longer bar between my ankles. She releases the carabiners holding my ankle cuffs to the ropes, and then releases my wrists, locking them together in front of me. She pushes the blindfold up on my head, and I blink even in the dim light as my tear-reddened eyes adjust. “Come to the chair, Laddie. Crawl to me. You may yet earn a reward.” She moves away and I hear her sit in the large armchair across the room from the bed. I turn myself awkwardly on the bed, very aware of the hook in my ass and the bit in my mouth, and ease myself down onto the floor, first my hands, then one knee, then the other. I hitch myself across the room to her. The floor has never seemed so wide.

She has placed her knees on either arm of the chair, spreading herself. Her muslin skirt falls to either side of her, and her breasts draw me close, their dusky nipples hard and ready. She is holding two clover clamps in her hands, and there are two more on the table beside her. I freeze for a moment, seeing them, and then, resigned to my fate, I hitch myself so that I am kneeling between her spread legs, gazing down at the glory of her cunt.

“Kneel up, Laddie.” I do, and she affixes two of the clamps to my nipples and two more to my balls, tying them together with thin cords that I had not seen before. She tugs on them and I moan – oh god, the pain! She smiles, satisfied, and takes the bit from my teeth, jostling the hook in my ass. “Don’t move, now,” she warns, as she removes the ties from the bit and re-ties them to the collar around my neck, tighter now, pulling the hook into me again. She then loops the other cords around her hand and holds them, so that there is always tension on my balls and my nipples. I moan, but now that my mouth is free, it is obvious what she wants me to do.

I lower my mouth to her open slit and drag my tongue from its base to its top, reveling in the taste of her juices. I find her clit and begin to stimulate it with my tongue in the way she has trained me – spelling out a particular word over and over and over with the tip of my tongue, balancing on my bound hands and knees before her, every motion of my head fucking me in the ass with that hook, and her hands jerking on the cords connected to my clamps. I do my best to focus only on her, as my mouth works on her cunt, trying to make her cum and cover my face with her juices.

She clamps her legs around my head, wrapping her free hand in my hair and forcing me down even harder than I was already moving, tightening the cords in her hand so that I nearly scream into her cunt. At the vibration from my voice, she suddenly cums so hard that I am knocked off-balance, held upright on my knees only by her suddenly clenched legs on either side of my head. I gasp for breath but continue to work my tongue against her slit, for all I’m worth, fucking her hole with it and moaning into her slit. My nose brushes against her clit as I work my way up and down her cunt, trying to lick up every drop of her juices, and just from that touch, she cums again.

Her voice reaches a crescendo and the pain from the clamps is nearly intolerable, when she suddenly lets go of the cords and my hair and slumps in the seat, her cunt visibly twitching. I lap up every drop of her juices, making sure to clean her with my tongue, and then simply kneel between her relaxing legs, waiting for her to give me further orders.

After a time, she does. My face is smeared with her juices and I am still horny as fuck, but it is all for her, and now I know it. Thank you, Master, for allowing me to give you this pleasure. Thank you for honoring me with the juice of your hot, wet slit. It is all for her.

She sits up, removing her legs from my back, and smooths her skirt down. You would never know she is naked under it. She rises from the chair in one smooth motion. “Place your head on the chair, slave.” I inch forward and do so. “Your arms, too. Rest your head on your arms.” I do, feeling the hook shift in my ass. She reaches under me and gathers the cords. “And now, your reward, slut. You will cum on my command.”

A bolt of elation shoots through me at her words. I feel her pull on the cords from behind, and at the same time the pain begins to build, the vibrator is back on my cock, pressed hard and unrelentingly to the tip. I begin to buck uncontrollably, feeling the hook in my ass and the clamps pulling my nipples and balls, but the feeling of agony/ecstasy from the vibrator is more intense than either of those sensations. I cry out against my arm as I hear the blessed command: “Cum for me, fucktoy! Cum for me, you slut!” and my hips begin to jerk again, this time in a rhythm of their own, as my cock trembles and jerks and my body floods with the sweet golden sensation of finally, finally cumming.

It feels so good, so good, and then it turns painful – the agony I must pay for the ecstasy she grants me. Oh god, I knew this was going to happen, but I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to think about the payment I have to make for every orgasm. My cock, now completely overstimulated, jerks against the vibrator and I scream again and again into my arms. She chuckles low in her throat, and I know that despite the pain, I have pleased her greatly. All for you, Master. ALL for you. Thank you for the pain.

She finally turns off the vibrator after making sure I’ve paid for my orgasm with several minutes of overstimulation post-orgasm, and I am limp and pliable when she turns me to face her. I drop my face to her boots and kiss them with abandon, not caring how degrading it is – welcoming it, for it is all for her. She pats my head. “That’s my good laddie-buck.”

My hips buck again – oh, thank you, Master! – and I kneel before her, knowing that this is my place. I am hers. All for her. Always.

Thank you, Master. All for you.

This is a tease and denial story first and foremost. If that isn’t your thing then ok, probably best you save your time. It is also probably just as much a “non consent/reluctance” story but I am looking ahead. Let me know your thoughts at the end if you so wish. I hope you enjoy the read…


He sat with his head in his hands. His luxury apartment and panoramic view over the harbor seemed of little consequence as he considered his predicament.

Only hours ago he had the world at his feet. He was an athlete at the peak of his career seemingly on a trajectory to stardom, a hero in the public eye. This week he would be playing in front of the national selectors, perhaps about to achieve his lifelong dream of selection for his country. It was something that had burned inside of him for as long as he could remember.

Since he could walk, he would seemingly do so, only ever with a rugby ball in hand. All of his toddler photos through to his teenage years had a ball in it or a rugby field framing the shot. His father was his greatest supporter and his mother a close second. He had been a player, cut down before expressing his talents with a serious ACL knee injury.

Loosing his father a couple of years earlier had been devastating for David. Lost for a while in self pity and grief – he had considered giving the game away. Close friends and his mother, who of course was suffering her own massive loss, rightly pointed out that his father would have wanted him to continue playing and to the highest level he could achieve.

His mothers concern for David in the way he sometimes played meant she would wish he had chosen a different occupation occasionally. However in the heart of big games he knew his mother was behind him 100% and he saw how her face glowed and her chest swelled when he had led his side to victory. She sought him out afterward with massive mom hugs.

It really became quite life changing for him, with a new focus on a career that had been middling at best, blossoming into something quite special. Before his fathers death he had been content to enjoy his talents and ride them wherever they took him. Since the accident, which took his dad, he was doing everything he could to be better as a rugby player. He followed the nutritionist’s advice, dropping the many social beers back to one or two a week – just to be polite. He had upped his protein intake and reduced the amount of fat in his diet. He would do extra training after the required team runs, where he would work on his micro skills, the catching and passing or tricky ball handling drills. Mean while the other players would gradually leave the field one by one to shower and head home.

He was noticed. His body shape gradually changed and his muscles and body grew. His chest expanded from the diet and extra training and the more focused gym training. David’s coaches began to acknowledge his workload and held him up as an example to the other players for his diligent effort.

The trainers noticed his size, speed and stamina improve over time and patted themselves on the back for the gains and his improvement.

David’s stat sheet had improved markedly also. The software used to count his contributions showed steady increases in effort. He made more tackles with more impact; he made more ball carries with a greater average distance and his handling error rate decreased.

His team held him up as an example to follow. Not only admiring his improvement but his courage in defense. He had a reputation for being a no nonsense tackler who refused to take a backward step. He hit hard and he hit squarely. When you ran into David Tanner, you risked your body’s condition and your reputation. Bluntly he was feared throughout the competition.

In his own mind David was glad to see that the harder he worked, the better he got. He made a steady rise into the leadership group and had not long ago, eased into the captaincy.

Everything was tracking along nicely until only very recently when his vice, gambling, or more accurately – risk taking, had placed him in a very delicate position. He’d made several bets in the past and the rush was all about breaking a rule. It was a rule he cared or thought little about but it meant he could have his little time away from the responsibilities and roles that came with being in charge.

He knew that the consequences of his actions were dramatic if he were to be caught by the right people. The governing body of the sport would probably slap him with a life ban and his career would be over. He guffed as he thought to himself that perhaps it was lucky so far that he was being blackmailed and not handed over to the authorities. Or, as he thought more reflectively – perhaps that was yet to come and what he was going through would be all in vain and the utter humiliation would be ahead – not in the recent past.

He started to think about Helena, his controlling mistress and the holder of his destiny. He was trying to be angry. He had every right. She had played with him and tortured him mercilessly. She had teased him to the edge of ecstasy and not let him over. She had denied him his senses and embarrassed and humiliated him… Yet, he was not thinking vengefully or aggressively toward her.

Through her teasing and torment, his desire to see her had grown. In a figurative and literal sense he wanted to see her again as she was so tauntingly, confidently and sexily attractive. She had turned his normally sharp mind to mush. He had become her willing, pliable clay in the matter of a few hours.

He had returned home and immediately taken some pictures of himself in the equipment, which he emailed off, to his mistress.

“” seemed as suitable email address as any, he thought as he pressed send. In the two shots he had taken he was sure to not show his face. As requested in her note he had included his personal mobile phone number

He wasn’t sure but he thought he missed her. “How fucking bizarre” he thought

He wanted to see her legs and he wanted to see her tits. He wanted to see her face again and he wanted to make her smile. He let out an anguished “Arguuugh” as he felt his wood start to fill the plastic barrel of the cock lock she had encased him in. The small rubber padlock bounced against his balls lightly as he stood and made his way to bed.

It was well after midnight, he had the most important game of his career, the next day, his desire to come was through the roof, he was thinking about a girl and his cock was locked in a small plastic barrel.

“Hmmmm” was all he could muster in his head, not the best game prep ever… to say the least.

He knew he would not sleep well!


Was not asleep either. The thrill of receiving the email so quickly after his departure and her brains unwillingness to switch off from dissecting the days events meant unconsciousness was beyond her.

The day could not have gone any better. She had, straddled the head of her home city’s favorite son, attaining multiple orgasms and a great deal of physical satisfaction. Despite her wrestle with the legal and moral side of her control, she smiled as she remembered the emotional side of her journey so far.

She had felt the thrill of her ultimate power. Having someone so desirable at her beck and call was a powerful aphrodisiac and now her mind was running wild as to what she could do with her new toy. She had a plan and hoped she could stick with it.

A concern she had was for his mental well-being. There was a flicker of fear that he was not up to this process she was conducting. The joy she got, far outweighed any real fears but she hoped the end result would prove to be a symbiotic outcome rather than just her benefiting solely from their liaisons.

She felt he was starting to enjoy himself, as was her intention. The balance between pleasure and torture would prove to be a delicate one but she also thought David might have a small psychological issue she could be helping with.

She was no professional but had the feeling that it was probably a good thing she caught him gambling, rather than someone else – from his industry.

None the less she was wide awake as she thought of his Adonis like body and admired athletic mind, which were both more or less, hers to do as she pleased.

Thinking of his vein-ridden cock, waving at his waist while she had ridden his face she slipped her hands down her flanks below the sheets and hooked her delicate underwear away in the process. Quickly finding her bud amongst the moist folds it took no time to massage her core to yet another quick orgasm to round out the day.

Her panting, writhing body eased eventually into a rested and satiated state.

She fell asleep with the corners of her mouth turned up – as her toes had been – four times that day.

The little sleep David had that night was fitful and restless. Dreams of prisons, shackles and inmates were punctuated by realizations of his predicament, every time he moved in bed. Each roll over or turn meant an unfamiliar feeling between his legs, thoughts of his situation, a frustrated attempted erection and a long spell of writhing before further fitful sleep. This cycle happened many times.

He finally awake early for good, rose and showered.

At some stage during the day he knew he would have to make some decisions.

He could not play professional rugby in a cock cage, he could attempt to remove the locked device, which would get him through the game, but he would not be able to put it back on without the key. This was assuming that he didn’t do himself an injury in its removal. If he did release the device he knew he would have to face the irritation or wrath of his mistress. She had been quite specific about only she having the right of removing it.

He couldn’t believe how fast he had gotten into the habit of thinking about her that way – his mistress!

He could hand himself in but then the cards would rapidly fall and his reputation and life would be in tatters.

Yes, the decisions would come later. There was nothing for it, he would have to prepare as normally as possible, hope for a change… and that it might be a positive one.

She woke with the smile still upon her face and the dried musk of last nights sign off session, subtly felt between her legs and on her underwear. She arose and prepared as if it were any Saturday. These for her involved a delicious long shower, a quick chat with her mother and father in the next city and brunch with two of her closest friends at a favorite cafe.

They were all used to her independent single life and so weren’t surprised when upon enquiry she informed them that there was no new news. She had to keep David a secret, at least until she had woven him a by story to fit into her extended life – if she so chose. She smiled to herself as she thought how uncomfortable he must be and how each time he would be reminded of her and her power over him.

David sat in a meeting with a small group of players. The whole team had met earlier at a hotel booked for them. The coach reminded them of the strategy to first play a territorial game and thrive off the opposition mistakes through their own pressure. The opposition was a strong side and led the league table but David and his side would catch them if they had a good win.

The small group David sat with were players he would deal most with during the game. He was a loose forward for this game and as such would have a close relationship with the other two starting loose forwards and the half back – in particular during the live elements of the match.

Normally he would lead and prompt talk from the other three men but today David was distracted and miles away. It was Tommy, the halfback who first piped up and ribbed him gently… “You ok boss, ugly woman trouble – maybe I can help?” two which the other two chuckled. David had a reputation for dating the town’s most attractive women while Tommy had bedded the odd troll when his beer goggles had led him astray in the evenings.

“What, sorry, nah” was all David could come out with and this did nothing for the comfort of the other three. His cock pulsed against the plastic confines in his shorts.

David was starting to get nervous. He had no message from his mistress, his cock was swelling in a cage, though thankfully no one could notice. Despite his attempted erections the tube remained pointed down. He new he couldn’t play like this – not just the physical risk but also the mental distraction. If someone saw him like this or noticed the plastic trouser chamber in the close contact his fearsome reputation would be in tatters.

He managed to switch back into the group meeting enough to get through but did little to ease the others minds. For them, their best player, in the most crucial game, was mentally absent. The leader that they looked to, appeared and seemed vacant or distracted.

David had three hours left and had not heard from his mistress. He was not panicking just yet but was growing increasingly doubtful. He made a visit to the mens room and established that he could not remove the cock lock without either doing himself some harm (which would take some explaining) or without outside help. He was not willing to ask for that.

She finished up after lunch with her girl friends and completed some housework. As she was dusting away she thought about how she might use David for this among other things, into the future. She packed her bag and made her way into town ready for the next part of her adventure.

Closer to game time, David had managed to get changed in private and he was certain no one was aware of his predicament

. Standing there in his yellow and black rugby jersey trying to slightly hold back his hips to avoid detection the group all gazed toward him. The coach who spoke about the importance of the match had addressed them all on how they should play for one another. He also picked out David for special mention and informed the other players that David was in consideration for national honors and how, with the respect they all had for him, they should do everything in their power to help him make the national team.

“If they only new” thought David, “their respect would be gone faster than you can say… cock cage!”

Normally David would speak up to reinforce his coaches words but partly due to the fact he was only half listening he instructed the boys to get outside and go on with their individual warm ups on the field.

David was going to risk it. Fully kitted, boots, socks, mouth guard, shorts jersey, strapping tape, lifters… and cock ring. He knew he wasn’t prepared for this game but more than anything he felt disappointed. He thought his mistress was organized and selfish in a way that somehow… was benefiting him. He could see no way this treatment was of any advantage to him – right now or in the future. In fact he was risking serious injury. “Oh well,” he thought. You got yourself into this mess. You can keep it hidden from everyone and try to do the best you can”. Not quite the inspirational quote or phrase he was hoping for… but appropriate non-the less.

As he lent in to hook the towel above his bag he heard the familiar vibration from his phones message alert.

She pressed send and lent back in her chair to wait.

“Concourse 2, Isle 7, second green door on the right past the groundsman office.


David read the text and ran out of the door to the changing room. The manager of the team looked at him in disbelief as he took off out the door – running away from the field.

He screamed his name “David, what the hell are you doing, we kick off in…” checking his watch. ..”twenty minutes”

He was gone.

He only had a rough idea of where concourse 2 was as he sprinted away from the changing room and his teammates. Finding a door to the stairwell, he started up them, three at a time. Two large flights later he burst out of the door. He was running in his rugby boots, which was not ideal and hard to manage on the slick concrete surface.

He was gathering stares from some of the fans and staff who all knew who he was and were, doubtless wondering what is the captain doing wandering around up here.

Most were lining up to get to food or drink or chatting to friends as he sprinted past along concourse 2. He saw isle seven and made his way along the long wide hall away from the ground until he came to the right door. Looking back over his shoulder he noticed that despite the obvious curiosity, no one had followed him. Knocking gently he was relieved that the door opened when tested it and he made his way in.

She was relieved to see him. Her direct order to come at such a time she knew was a risk. He may have made other arrangements and in fact decided to come clean and confess to the authorities which indeed would have put her at risk in a criminal sense.

Seeing him there like this, dressed as a gladiator ready for battle filled her up. She swelled with lust, power and yearning.

“Hello, rugby boy, how are you going” she asked in a composed looking manner with a raised eyebrow.

Despite everything, David couldn’t help but think how good it was to see her. Even getting the text made him react like had never before. Running full tether until he got here. His cock became secondary for some reason and just getting to see this woman who controlled him was a driving force.

“I’m well thanks my mistress” he managed with a kind of grimaced smile. He didn’t want her to know he was enjoying himself. God, things were weird enough as it was.

The biggest day of his playing career and he had fled the changing room like a frightened schoolgirl.

” You got here quickly” she said, “I like that, good boy”

The syndicated gambling office that Helena worked for owned the office and being able to book it out when ever she needed it had made it ideal for tonight’s purposes. Luckily no one else wanted it despite the big game. It was sparsely decorated but her needs tonight required little need for furniture. There were a few corporate office chairs and a meeting table in the main room with a small offshoot bathroom attached.

“Come here rugby boy,” she instructed him from her seat.

His cock was pressing out against its constraints at just the sound of her voice. He felt it fill the tube and his balls press against the ring and lock.

When he arrived in front of her chair she looked up at him grabbed the hem of his shorts and lowered them to his ankles. His spandex underwear followed them shortly after. His caged manhood popped free in front of Helena.

She dramatically licked her lips and removed a chain from her neck, which was connected to a familiar looking key.

Undoing the padlock she slid the tube over David’s cock. It was a tight fit and though it stuck a little she managed to free his cock with some gentle manipulation. Davids manhood sprang free and began to rapidly grow into the free space. She then took off the ring as David stood statue like before her. Her grip was like satin and every touch was setting off pleasure fireworks along his entire length. His newly released manhood seemed to be finding new growth as he expanded in her hand.

“Follow me, she instructed” as she stood and led him into the small bathroom – her hand around his hardening, warm log. The basin was filled with soapy water and a hand cloth. Squeezing the excess from the small towel, Helena began to bathe David’s cock.

He tilted his head back slightly but managed to not make a sound as the warm water and cloth caressed his unsheathed sword.

When Helena had washed and dried his member she led him back into the small meeting room. His awkward shuffling around the room would have appeared extremely comical. By now he was as hard as granite though and cared little for how he appeared.

“Lean over the table” she ordered and he did.

“Back a bit” she instructed him, guiding him until he moved down on the table and his cock sprang free over the edge.

He was lying face down on the meeting table with his cock almost pointing parallel to the floor below.

His underwear around his ankles and swollen manhood drunkenly pointing the way.

Helena gave him three quick spanks hard on the ass. Bending down she slipped under the table to be faced with the eye of his weapon.

As she sat almost upright in front of his powerful thighs she began to lightly stroke his cock. Slowly increasing the pace of her ministrations she rested her forehead against the underneath of the table and took the tip of his meat into her mouth.

God. He felt heavy and hard.

He lay above her. Again denied the visual pleasure of what was happening to him. There was no denying or hiding what was occurring though and his balls began to boil. He would not last long and the explosion he so obviously needed and wanted was desperately close.

He wanted to say something but recent experiences with this woman pointed to the wisdom of silence. He was only seconds away. He knew he should warn her that a large ball load of come was about to head her throats direction. He couldn’t bring himself to speak..

She loved to suck cock.

Over the last day or so the hardest thing (aside from David’s penis) had been to resist fulfilling the urge to jam David’s massive cock into her hungry mouth and lick and suck until she got a feed of glorious come.

Now as she sat wedged between the floor and the bottom of the table she was able to glory in the taste and texture of David’s shaft and large shiny orb

She licked and focused on the tip with her limited ability to move her head but she did so with an ever-increasing tempo. She attacked the small crease of skin on the base of his tip with her tongue while bobbing her head and encasing his large knob with her wet, warm, lubricated mouth.

Reaching around and up she managed to grasp David’s incredibly tight butt and pull it downward firmly, pressing his belly into the table with some of her weight. It was as if she were attached to him, again out of his sight but definitely in charge of his pleasure.

David wanted to thrust but he was firmly pinned. He could move if he wanted but the only direction possible would be away from the fantastic sensations he was receiving. He was unwilling to risk any change given his short history with this beautiful minx.

His blood pressure grew and he started to get the familiar feeling where his balls would tingle and the point of no return was drawing close. Wondering if she would swallow or spit was the final pre come thought he could manage as he felt his balls begin to stir and lift with the imminent launch of his seed.

Despite her aggression under the table, Helena was paying close attention to David’s physical state.

David lifted his head off the table and arched his back. His body tensed. Rigid legs with lineout lifting tape strapped tightly at mid thigh were taught and locked straight with muscles and sinew at full stretch in both directions – hamstrings fought with an array of quad muscles.

Underneath the table Helena who had already enjoyed a good gob of slick precum noticed all of this.

Right at the point she saw David’s balls begin to tighten she stopped all contact with him. Releasing his bum with her hands his cock slipped from her mouth and she slid out and up to stand, looking down on his prone frame.

“Don’t you dare come, rugby boy” was all she said.

She watched his body heave and twitch with the new pleasure sensations taking him over. He felt his unattended cock waving and bobbing under the table like it was conducting an orchestra. For almost a minute he was on the edge of coming. He didn’t care if he did or didn’t but only wanted the tension and frustration to subside. He had let go a loud roar under the new torture, he remembered that. But the last few minutes were almost a blur. He knew what she had done to him but now his body had fought with his mind in a massive struggle of consent or deny.

“Stand up, rugby boy” she said. ” Goodness, you have done well” she said with a tone of admiration. David looked down and saw there was only a few drops of precum on the hard floor. Somehow, he had kept from blowing his load and consequently kept himself in her good books. It had certainly been good luck more than good management he felt.

Reaching up to stroke his face fondly and hold his chin she stared into his eyes. He held her gaze directly. It was an unusual sight. The beautiful, fully clothed, betting office manager, holding the primed athlete by his strong jaw gently, his pants around his ankles while his bobbing cock danced between them.

“Now” she said calmly and quietly ” I believe you have a game to get to?” she said while tilting her head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

” I will see you afterward,” she said as she reached around, lightly patted him on the bottom. She spun on her heel, opened the office door and left the room.

David was stunned, again.

How could she keep doing this to him he thought?

He was a grown man, in the prime of his life. He needed release and his nerve endings were jangling and wrecked across his entire body.

The next few moments were a blur as he managed to resist wanking himself to climax, pull his shorts over his hardly subsiding erection and make his way back to the changing room.

He opened the door to see 25 and more heads turn his way. The relief in the faces was obvious – with only one exception. Jimmy Thompson had just been told that he would be promoted from the bench to starting flanker if David did not show. His was the only disappointed face.

With the relief was obvious anxiety and David had to do something.

He apologized briefly for “having something to take care of” and in a short message to his troupes instructed them to “follow me!”

Then they huddled in the middle of the room and cried out the team name in unison before David led them from the sheds, internally wondering what the hell he was doing.

Putting on a good show for the boys was one thing but David’s mind was in turmoil. He had never been so aroused or frustrated. His nerve endings were on tenterhooks as he headed from the tunnel out into the bright lights of the stadium and the hit of the welcoming roar. It was a capacity crowd and they were a vocal lot.

For the biggest game of his life, he just hoped that his training would carry him through… as his usual focus; pregame warm up and standard preparation had certainly not been carried out.

He managed to get through the coin toss without messing it up and his team would receive the kickoff. After a brief and stern message to his boys about giving it everything for 80 minutes, David and his team set up to receive the ball.

On the whistle the high kick arced directly to his position near the sideline. This was perfect he thought briefly, a chance to get into the game right from the outset.” I’ll get past the distractions and immerse myself in the job at hand.” In the fleeting seconds that it took for the ball to arrive, David mind flashed back.

Her legs, the smell of her pussy hovering above his face, the sound of music while he tasted her and the feel of her satin like texture. The feel of her generous but hidden blowjob, which had stopped before he could really get the full enjoyment…. All this he felt over and above the atmosphere, noise and raw emotion of a professional contact sport.

He dropped the ball. The rushing opposition winger managed to scoop it up and nearly scored in the corner and would have, had the defending fullback for David’s team not reacted well and bundled him out into touch near their own goal line.

“Christ” thought David. What a start! He managed to somehow flush the memory of the mistake and make his way to the lineout with his team.

He called a move which involved a down and give from the locks. From there it was a swift flat pass to himself who would take it at full steam. From here the team would set up a ruck before the ball would be kicked down field into a more neutral, less defensive position on the field. It was a move that the team had practiced hundreds of times and they could all practically do it in their sleep. The other forwards knew their roles well. They were to protect the halfback at the lineout or quickly get to the ruck and clean out the opposing poaches before they could win the ball. It was a standard move for the situation and one many teams used when hard on defense.

The first part of the move went perfectly. Despite opposition pressure the lineout was won and the ball fed to the halfback.

David stood flat in position and felt the passion well up inside him. Over 24 hours of having his balls denied and teased had affected him greatly. Inside he felt a rage. He wasn’t angry at his mistress, or at dropping the ball. This was a rage of pent up frustration that needed release. If his cock could get no relief he would need to expend the dammed up energy elsewhere…

He ran full pace and met the ball perfectly. In that instant, David changed the game plan. His role in the move was to hit into the 1st 5 8th from the opposition forcing him to make a tackle. David wasn’t known as a great ball runner with evasion or power but he was very reliable. Almost without fail he would return the ball to the back of the ruck, on his own teams side, despite the best efforts of opponents to poach it or disrupt his set ups. David had many strengths but evasion was not his area of great expertise.

At this moment and under these circumstances David decided it would be different.

Two steps after receiving the ball he jinked slightly off his right foot and veered away from the 1st 5 for the opposition – Johnny Williamson. He was a safe defender in his own right. David’s fresh course took him directly into the path of his opposite number Jerry Colleens who was regarded as a fearsome tackler – much in the same mold as David.

All of this unfolded in a heartbeat. Perhaps it was because of the unexpected method or the vigor that David had pouring through his body. Perhaps it was Because the opposition, having combed over video analysis of David and his teams previous games and had seen the ‘release’ pattern – and were caught unaware.

Jerry was slightly late lowering his shoulder and Johnny was at a bad angle. David glanced off the attempted tackle from Johnny at the side – not even needing a fend before striding through a hole. Lowering his center of gravity David met Jerry in a bone thudding contact. Both men were moving forward with David having more velocity. In the event of Jerry being slightly off with his body position and not being able to wrap his arms fast enough at the contact point, he was sent sailing backwards. His body was sent flying through the air and landed in an ungainly pile on his back. His head rocked backward and hit the ground hard.

David burst free. He ran twenty-five meters before drawing a covering tackle and offloading to his supporting players who were rampaging behind him in disbelief. The play ended with a fumble of the ball near the opposition goal line.

David made his way to the ensuing scrum to the loudest roar he could ever remember hearing at the stadium. They hadn’t even scored and his supporters were in raptures.

He glanced back down the field to see Jerry Colleens running back into position. He was shaking his head and dusting himself off. Never in his whole life, from the first time he saw a rugby ball through ten years of physically playing professional rugby had he been hit so hard or so embarrassed. He was sore and had had his bell rung.

The beauty of rugby is that it is an eighty-minute game and with little water under the bridge there was a long way to go. David and the team certainly had momentum but they had a lot of rugby to play.

He felt good for his down field burst but was certainly not satisfied. The rage still burned within him and barely keeping a lid on his energy he set down for the scrum with the rest of the forwards. His scrum managed to win the hit and from pressure and go forward David felt there was a chance to win back possession. The opposition managed to scramble the ball away with a low pass to Johnny Williamson for their planned defensive clearance. David had anticipated the move through his own analysis of the other team earlier in the week and with the help of his dominant scrum got a flyer away following after the low pass.

Johnny bent to collect the ball and shape for the kick. As he looked up he saw that David was bearing down on him and he may have his kick charged down. He was famous for his composure under pressure so he hesitated a split second before side stepping hard to his left and set up to kick off his left foot.

As David gained full speed toward Johnny he felt very light on his feet. He felt as strong as an ox but somehow light and agile. His head was clear and in the game. He will never know what was the indicator but he anticipated Williamson’s side step. In the split second David had to decide to either keep his line to try and block the kick or trust his instinct and swerve right to meet and respond to Johnny’s impending move.

Johnny didn’t know what hit him. His sidestep was perfect which should have given him clear air and the time to kick. Instead he felt his chest compress and evacuate all of the air inside of it. He was driven back at least four meters before landing flat on his back in the in goal area with the full weight of David Tanners body driving into him through the shoulder. Somehow Williamson placed the ball for a loss of possession and an attacking scrum to David’s team from the five-meter line.

From that point on the game was in the bag. The two most influential players from the opposition had been neutralized. Their confidence had taken a hit and David was playing like a man amongst boys. Everything he touched turned to gold.

He made several long ball carries during the game and more devastating tackles than usual. He even managed to score from yet another uncharacteristic, twenty meter burst late in the game. This one came while acting on instinct and spotting unmarked space down a tight blindside.

Those watching the game also saw him take the ball at the lineout one handed at full stretch and at the top of the lift. Once, even from an opposition throw.

He showed enhanced pace, at one stage catching an opposition center on the angle before man crunching him over the sideline and discarding him like a school ground bully. He rallied his men to lift themselves by his deeds. And they did.

When asked later his teammates could only shake their heads in wonder at what had lifted their already inspirational leader to such dizzying new heights. There were comments amongst them about how he seemed “possessed” or that “his eyes seemed to burn with raw emotion” and other interesting tales. Aside from these stretched truths and enhanced tales – reserved for legendary acts – from the outside, he appeared to be quite normal as far as they could tell. There was the strange disappearance prior to kick off but while not standard, it was excusable. The massive performance was put down to a player rising to an occasion and in so doing putting a performance on which would be remembered by all who saw it. Who cared what led to it…

David lowered himself into the recovery ice bath. He felt satisfied to a degree but despite his body looking like a street gang had attacked him, he felt little fatigue. He knew he had played well but for the most part the game was a blur. The endorphins and hormones that had put him in the zone so to speak were still at an elevated level. He felt high and didn’t really want it to end.

He had stayed on the field for almost an hour after the game going through the process’s of warming down, meeting his mother, who was beside herself with pride, meeting delirious fans and signing autographs. He exited the ground through the tunnel and fulfilled his obligations to the media. Despite their queries around on their perceived feelings on his imminent national squad selection – he always steered his answers back to how he felt – it was a team effort and no one individual was responsible for the big win. David knew they would write what they wanted but he was not about to fill an arrogant label for himself. He was proud of his own game but that was something he would keep to himself. His head was still buzzing with recent goings on so he got through the media as succinctly and carefully as he could.

Finally relaxing in the ice-cold water he could quietly reflect on things in some peace. The other players were already showered and had left for the social side of pro sport beckoning, only a few stragglers remaining.

Climbing the pool ladder he toweled off and examined his body for serious damage. “not to bad” he muttered noticing only a few cuts and bruises around his torso and one of his eyes was swollen. About to pull on his underwear he heard his cell phone buzz in his bag. Usually he would wait to read all the texts and messages in congratulations, or condolences after a loss for when he was at home and completely relaxed.

For some reason he picked up his phone and checked the screen.

“35 new messages” which was slightly more than the standard post game amount.

Upon opening the phone application he noticed the most recent was from his mistress and it read.

“Your cock in a photo, dripping pre come… Don’t you dare go all the way! Send it to me, you have 5 minutes”

David shock his head…”Unbelievable!”, he thought to himself.

He made his way into the toilet of the changing room and dropped the towel. He noticed from the message that he only had 4 minutes left.

On the short trip from his locker to the cubicle he felt his loins stir. Despite having only excited from the near zero degree pool seconds ago, … His wood was good.

Thinking of her slick, tasty pussy and what it would feel like to pound his cock through its entrance – he rapidly stroked himself to full length. His unmet needs meant despite 80 minutes of high-level rugby, the subsequent cool down time, including an ice bath, he was quickly aroused again.

Jerking himself furiously he easily attained a level where pre cum presented itself at the tip. He so wanted to just take himself over the edge but felt there might be more to her games tonight and she would know if he came. He eased off before reaching his pleasure limit.

Letting himself go near the point of no return and after squeezing a lubed load up the tunnel; he took a snap with his cell phone.

He still had around a minute before his deadline so he typed in a message with the picture. “For you, my mistress – Rugby Boy”

She sat in her car on a nearby road and opened the newly arriving message and picture.

She saw the familiar cock with the bulb of spit at his entrance and smiled. Her smile brightened as she read the message.

She waited a couple of minutes before sending back her next instructions. “Good boy, just in time. Nice cock – I like it a lot! Billys Burgers car park in 20 minutes. Be naked.”

As he read the reply he smiled – nothing was ever simple with this lady. His cock stayed hard but his anxiety went up. His obligations at the ground were over and he was free to go so that was good. He knew there were many who would see him leave and sometimes even follow him… Not so good!

Wearing only jeans and a shirt he walked briskly to his car. Throwing his bag in the back he exited the stadium car park, which was dedicated to the players and made his way into town. He found a block of apartments with an external car park and made a quick change in the shadowed area – ripping his few remaining clothes off and throwing them over his shoulder to the back seats.

Alexis quickly moved to the kitchen and Subby and Bossy worked in harmony to clear the table, and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Subby’s mind was however, letting her senses remember the taste of his semen and sending little signals to her sex about the way her hair follicles were just a bit tender where his hand had twisted in her hair. Both minds were preoccupied, busy in their own unique way.

Bossy was working like a fiend to finish cleaning the kitchen in record time so Alexis would have enough time to visit the water closet. The extra time would also then give Bossy the opportunity to evaluate the clothing and to try and plan her responses. The dishes slid into the dishwasher, and Alexis looked out the back door. He was sitting on the patio with his feet up on the table smoking a cigar. She watched him move the cigar to his lips and then the tip glowed red as he applied suction. Bossy sent a message to Subby that they only had about 25 minutes left and Subby reluctantly let Alexis be taken by the control freak to the restroom.

Alexis tended to her personal needs, and freshened up her pussy, taking the time for a quick douche. A glance at the clock told her she had 20 minutes left to open the box and follow the instructions. She turned to her bed and looked at the wrapped box. Subby gushed with the fact that he had wrapped the items in a gift box. Even Bossy was impressed at the effort and of course noticed that the wrapping job was surprisingly excellent for a male. It wasn’t perfect like the ones wrapped in a department store, but it was pretty good. Alexis took the box and shook it to evaluate its contents, like all women everywhere, and to her surprise found it to be heavy for its size. Time was wasting away, so she tore the wrapping off with haste and opened the lid of the gift box.

On top of the tissue was a single note. It read:

“My dear, there are several items in the box. Two of them are articles of clothing. These you will need to put on first. There are two pairs of leather cuffs. The larger cuffs go around your ankles, while the smaller ones attach to your wrists. Once you have fastened these on, put the ball gag in your mouth and secure it with the strap. Then put on the high heels, and come outside to the patio bringing the other items with you. When you have made it outside, place the items you are carrying on the table, and move to a standing position directly in front of my chair with your back towards me.”

For a moment, Alexis was speechless. “OH SHIT!” Bossy swore in Subby’s direction. “You had to know this was coming!” Subby was also shocked for a moment as well but her shock was out of delight rather than fear. “Yes Bossy;” She admitted; “I was hoping for this moment.” The net result of the conflict caused Alexis’ body to short circuit; part of her shook with fear while the other emotion of joy made her tremble. Her knees lost their strength. As Alexis removed each item from the box, Bossy took over and organized the items on the surface of the bed.

She oriented the contents from left to right starting with the cuffs which were situated by size from large to small. The bright red ball gag with the black leather fastener was laid next to the cuffs followed by a pair of stockings, a bright red garter belt, a blindfold, a rather expensive looking set of earphones, a pair of six inch ruby red stiletto heels, a flogger, and a leather slapper. Subby was simply experiencing the moment, after all organization was Bossy’s thing and not part of Subby’s area of expertise.

Bossy had seen enough. There was no F*#+ ^ing way she was going to let Alexis lose the ability of sight, hearing, and the ability to talk as well. NO WAY IN HELL especially while also being helplessly restrained. Subby leaned into the loss of control offered by the items lying on the bed. She guided Alexis’ hand to her breasts and twisted a nipple in delight. This was one of her fantasies. She had always wanted to be totally helpless.

Subby reminded Bossy who was now in a constant state of complaining that the fantasy was born out of the conscious section of Alexis’ mind and was totally manufactured and controlled by Bossy the control freak. Subby was only in control of feelings or sub-conscious thoughts. Bossy, forced to acknowledge the hypocrisy of her mind, flushed in embarrassment and silently began to assist Subby. A shiver of anticipation sent by Subby made Alexis’ tremble as she donned the items lying on the bed.

In automation, Alexis pulled on the garter belt and stockings followed by the high heels. One by one the larger cuffs went on each of her ankles and then the smaller ones were fastened on each wrist as well. She slipped her feet into the sexy red stiletto heels. The last item she would put on in the bedroom was the ball gag. Alexis picked up the ball gag and opened her mouth to accommodate the ball size. She gripped it with her teeth tossed her head forward to allow the strap to go under her hair, and fastened the strap. Her mouth and teeth played with the object and discovered that she could still easily breathe around the ball, but she couldn’t spit it out. Hopefully, she had put this item on correctly. She scooped up the remaining items and somehow made her way to the back patio.

Alexis opened the patio door, placed the blindfold, headphones, flogger, and the leather slapper on the table near to his hand and stepped to a position directly in front of his chair facing away from him. She inched her body backwards so her ass was inches from his knees, and then spread her legs slightly for balance.

Nothing from him at all. No movement, no acknowledgement of her presence, no glance of appreciation…nothing. She sensed rather than saw him move the cigar to his lips and draw the smoke into his mouth. Bossy was a nervous wreck. When was he going to say something, do something? How long would he ignore her? What was he thinking? What was he going to do? In an effort to glean information from her surroundings, Bossy tuned up every sense organ to its highest level. In this heightened state of sensitivity, she heard him exhale the cigar smoke, and tasted its sharp odor as it wafted out of his mouth into the air past her head in a cloud.

Subby was busy as well, but she wasn’t evaluating what was going on, she was simply appreciating the tension his lack of communication caused. She was loving the sharp acrid odor of cigar smoke, and found herself wondering how the flavor of his mouth would taste in a kiss. Alexis was now like a bow string pulled back with an arrow in it ready for launch. Every nerve and emotion was in glorious wonderful tension. This man was able to keep her in this state for long periods of time. When she did orgasm with him, it was always intense.

His hand tapped the inside of her left thigh, about one inch below her wet lips in an unstated order to widen her stance. Alexis moved her left leg out even more. Then another more intense slap on her right thigh that sent two messages; the first was to let her know that he had expected her to open her stance by moving both legs, and was mildly irritated; the second was the command to open wider. Bossy sent the command to Alexis because the useless slut Subby was thinking about how close his hand had been to her pussy, and the feelings his slap had generated, and just how much she enjoyed his dominance. In times like this Subby was almost useless, and Bossy was forced to assist, even if she didn’t really want to. Alexis parted her legs as far as she could safely stand on the stilettos without squatting.

Again there was a long period of silence. He took another drag on the cigar, exhaled the smoke into the air, and then she recognized the sound of the stub being put out in the ash tray. He was going to begin. Subby made Alexis’ knees tremble at the thought, Bossy was busy processing datum. He was either going to make her step forward, or he was going to have to move his chair backward. Bossy was guessing that he would order her to take a step forward.

Bossy of course had been scanning her environment without ceasing since she had stepped onto the porch. Was there anything new on her patio? She started her search near her and then moved out in a grid search pattern in order to not miss anything. His voice interrupted the stillness with a chuckle. “Alexis, have you found any clues?” Then without waiting for an answer he issued an order; “Close your eyes.” Subby always waiting for an opportunity to irritate Bossy snapped Alexis’ eyes shut before Bossy could even begin to complain.

Bossy was preparing to start bitching about Subby to Alexis, when her ears told her that he had shoved his chair backwards like a man standing up quickly. The chair in fact tipped over and clattered to the floor. His hand grabbed her hair and he twisted her face towards him. “Look at me.” Bossy snapped her eyes open because Subby was reveling in the cave man way he used her hair to position her head and she couldn’t do anything. Once again Bossy was the only one left that could make it happen.

He began;

“Before tonight is over dear, you will forget your own name. Tonight I will take you to sub-space, and the Bossy bitchy side of you will be the one to take you there. Tonight we are going to take control away from your sub-conscious mind and force your conscious mind to admit that you are indeed mine to command. I have watched you struggle for several months with this. I am no longer able to be satisfied that your innate animalistic nature housed in your sub-consciousness is the only way you can let yourself obey me. Every woman is born with that. I demand that your controlling conscious mind submit to me without blaming the subconscious mind. I want that part of you.”

Alexis looked at him is a bit of awe and a serving of fear. She had never ever even intimated that she was so divided. He even got her nickname for the controlling segment of her mind correct. Her body trembled with desire, her mind churned over the data. Subby was for the first time sensing that this man had made an error. There was no way Subby was going to relinquish control to Bossy. Even if she did relinquish control, Bossy would never be able to admit that she wanted to be submissive to anyone. Bossy would be too embarrassed. Besides, the sub-conscious mind was the reason why Bossy was in this mess. Without Subby’s needs, Bossy would have never let herself get involved in BDSM. Bossy was the slave of the sub-conscious desire inflamed by Subby.

Bossy was agreeing with Subby, There was no way she would ever allow herself to lose that much control. In all of their previous times together, Bossy would be forced to help Subby just to survive. IF Subby would have listened to Bossy, Alexis would never be in this predicament. Besides, she wasn’t actually in control of this animalistic process; it was some inherent drive she was a prisoner to. He was simply wrong. In fact, this was the first time he had been wrong about her. Bossy smugly decided that she would simply fake it for his sake. Subby agreed.

He laughed; “Alexis, I know the inner struggle you have, and I can almost hear your mind talking about how wrong I am. We shall see.” With that statement he placed the blindfold over her eyes, and fixed it snuggly around the head. Alexis was plunged into darkness. With the absence of light, both Bossy and Subby turned up the other four senses. Bossy for the purpose of analysis, while Subby was for the evil purpose of stimulation. A stay strand of hair was captured uncomfortably in the blindfold buckle and the mild pain sent little shivers of delight to Alexis’ body. Each time she moved her head this little strand of hair would be a little reminder.

Bossy was listening intently, and she heard him fiddling with the headphones. The head set was fastened over her ears, and soft music floated into her mind. The volume was loud enough that the music drowned out all sound but it was still at a comfortable level. For all practical purposes she was deaf to all except the music. The only senses she had left at her disposal was touch, taste, and smell. Bossy detected the musky fragrance of his cologne along with the sharp twang of tobacco as he moved around her. Bossy informed Alexis that he was probably standing in front of her. Exactly where he was located was not possible to determine, but she could get a general idea.

His hands brushed the inside of her right thigh and moved down to the ankle cuff around her lower leg. Her leg informed Bossy that the snap on the cuff had been opened and a heavy object was dangling there. Bossy went through a catalogue of possibilities, but couldn’t yet discern what the object was. Subby was busy feeling the sensations his hand had caused on her leg. The sensation of his touch on her flesh was intensified by the lack of sight and sound. It was if the volume of sensitivity of her flesh had been suddenly turned up as high as it could go. Goose bumps formed in the wake of his hand. Fluid was wetting her sex once again.

Alexis felt his hand trail down the inner thigh on her left leg and again her flesh trembled in sensation. Bossy again using only the sense of touch informed Alexis that the snap had opened and a heavy object was now hanging from both ankle cuffs. Bossy was fast tracking everything she could think of to divine what this was. As she was working on this puzzle, his hands touched both wrists at the same time and she felt him connect the wrist cuffs together in front of her. Then she felt rope being tied to the central area of the wrist cuffs.

More sensations that she couldn’t process, and then she felt her arms being raised up over her head. The rope pulled her so that she was stretched. She tried to move her legs together to give her a bit more height and to ease the increasing strain on her shoulders. But to Bossy’s amazement and consternation, her legs were prevented from closing. Bossy ran over the list of probabilities, and decided that there was a rod of some kind connected to her ankles.

Her arms were just beginning to bear some of the weight of her body when the upward movement stopped. She was left standing on her feet with about 75 percent of her weight being carried by her feet and legs, and the remaining 25 percent of the weight being borne by her arms and wrists. Bossy took stock of the situation and realized that although it was uncomfortable, she should be able to stay in this position for a long period of time.

Without the sense of sight and the disorientation of music that prevented her from hearing, it was hard for her to keep track of time. It seemed as if an eternity had passed, when in reality only a few moments had transpired. His voice broke into the music startling her with its intrusion.

“My dear, if you can hear me nod once.” Alexis nodded once. “Good. Alexis, in your right hand you will notice there is a little button. Can you find it for me dear? “Alexis found the switch and fumbled with it a bit. Master’s voice; “Please press the button dear.” Alexis depressed the button and a loud sound rang in her ears. He continued. “Alexis that is your stop button. If you depress that button once, I will either slow down or give you a break. If you depress that button twice everything will stop immediately. You can stop at any time for any reason dear. However, everything will stop and we will not restart or continue. Do you understand dear? If so press the button twice.

Bossy was relieved that she had some way to communicate and take over if things got out of hand. Alexis pressed the button twice. Subby didn’t care at all, she just wanted to experience the way this man made her feel, and wanted him inside of her. Needed to feel him enter her sex….

He was speaking; “Alexis, You may not orgasm at all without my permission. If you decide to cum I will punish you with the cane dear. Let me give you a mild example.”

Her ass lit up as if on fire and she screamed into the gag. Both Subby and Bossy were shocked at the intensity. Subby was now worried about possible injury to her ass, and Bossy was ready to push the button. The stinging began to abate just a little when his voice broke into her mind. “I can see that made an impression. On a scale of one to ten with one being the mildest and 10 being the most intense, that was a five. If you do orgasm without my permission, I will give you ten strokes of the cane starting at level 5. For each subsequent orgasm the number of strokes will increase by three. The last three strokes will be at a more intense level. I suggest that you do not orgasm without my permission.”

Bossy was now sweating. She was going to push the button to stop this madness. And for once Subby was a bit worried as well. The sub-conscious mind cannot let the body be injured. As both of the minds were contemplating whether or not to stop the madness, her concentration was sabotaged by the slap of the flogger across her breasts. The sensation was overpowering. The strike was not harsh enough to cause pain, but yet intense enough to inflict desire. Alexis leaned into the strike forced towards the stimulation by Subby. Bossy of course helpless to resist began to monitor the situation.

After that first hit with the flogger, time seemed to stand still. Then without any warning the next blow was to the inside of the left thigh. Bossy could tell that he was standing to her right by the way the tendrils of the flogger spread out on her skin. Subby swooned into the pleasure, and began to switch on systems without any thought at all to the warning about not cumming. Alexis was moving ever closer towards an orgasm. Bossy sent a terse message to Subby to remind her about the cane.

The slaps continued with no predictable pattern. He was warming up her entire body. There was no area of flesh except her neck and face that he missed with the flogger. Just as Bossy decided that there would be no pattern, he began a series of quick slaps to her left breast. Over and over in the exact same spot. Alexis’s cunt was dripping with need. The constant repetitive hits to her left tit felt so good that Subby was doing what she did best; moving Alexis towards an orgasm. Bossy was trying to get Subby’s attention, when the flogger stopped. Subby moaned in frustration, Bossy breathed a sigh of relief.

Then the attack began anew on her ass. Hard hits deflected the cheeks of her ass as he worked on both globes. Again the sensations were unbelievable and Subby was swooning nearer to an orgasm. On a scale of one to ten with ten being an orgasm, Alexis’ body was hovering around an eight. He stopped. Again Bossy was glad for the break but Subby offered groans of frustration at the interruption. Bossy realized that Alexis was drooling past the ball gag as drops of spittle fell to her breasts.

Back to her tits again this time the right one received the attention. This went on seemingly for a long period of time. Each cycle moving the slut Subby nearer an orgasm followed by a frustrating pause that made her need to orgasm abate slightly. Over and over the process repeated itself. Bossy was forced into the role of trying to talk some sense into Subby about not cumming. Trying to get the slut to control herself to prevent being caned. Subby was able to remember the pain and the fear of injury during the breaks, but quickly forgetting about anything but cumming when the strokes sent those wonderful sensations over her flesh.

Bossy was handicapped because she could neither see nor hear where the strokes were coming from or where they would land. She couldn’t adjust her body position at just the right moment to abate the sensations. All she could do was try to talk some sense into Subby. Bossy was shocked out of her analysis by the impact of the flogger on her sex. He had actually slapped her pussy with the flogger. THAT WAS IT! How dare he? What kind of man would whip a girl’s vagina? Bossy fingered the button in her hand trying to decide if she should stop this madness. She hesitated, maybe this wouldn’t hurt too much. Her finger moved away from the button. She could tell he was standing behind her now and the flogger was being swung between her legs with upward strokes.

I knew I’d disappointed you. Of course, there were reasons why I’d failed you, but I also knew that excuses were just that in your eyes. It was ultimately my own fault. I didn’t tell you that I couldn’t complete the project you were relying on me to do and, beyond that, waited for nearly two weeks before telling you I wasn’t going to make it. I knew that making you wait was unacceptable, but impacting a client’s account was even worse. It was obvious I wasn’t going to get out of this with just an apology when you summarily dismissed me as if I was just another one of your employees.

You’d sent me a text earlier saying that at 5pm I was to go to the greenhouse, remove all of my clothing, face the table against the back wall, and keep my legs spread. Fear shot through me when I’d read it, and yet there was also….anticipation? I sent a reply back letting you know I’d be there and asked if you would be meeting me, but there was no reply. My heart sank. I looked up at the clock and saw that it was only 3pm. I needed to leave work by 4pm to be sure I wasn’t late. I knew that I was facing the longest two hours of my life as I worried about what I might have to face at the appointed hour.

Arriving at my destination, I gazed over at the greenhouse. Its windows glinting in the sunlight, beckoning to me ominously. I looked at my watch and saw that it was 4:50. Panic set in and I knew I needed to hurry if I was going to be on time. I took in a ragged breath, fear welling up inside me, and began walking toward the door. As I reached the doorway I noticed that it was unlocked, so I walked in and was immediately met with the warm, moist heat captured within its walls.

Bringing my eyes to the back of the room, I saw that a space had been cleared in the center of the back potting table. I slowly walked over to it, my mouth growing dry with each step, and saw a folded note atop a neatly arranged strip of black fabric. I picked it up and recognized the handwriting instantly. Yours. My hands began to shake as I read, “Tie this around your eyes after disrobing. Leave your bra, stockings and heels on. No panties. Place your hands on the table. Spread your legs. Lean forward. Do not make a sound. Do not move. If I find that you’ve not secured the blindfold and are not in darkness, I will not be pleased.”

Setting the note down, I quickly began to take my clothes off. I knew I didn’t have much time left, so I hurriedly unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off, folding it neatly and setting it on the table next to the blindfold. I unzipped my skirt, bending to carefully step out of it and my panties, then set them aside as I reached for the blindfold. Raising it to my eyes, I wrapped it around my head and cinched it tight, adjusted it carefully, making absolutely sure I couldn’t see a thing. Then I reached forward to place my hands on the table, spread my legs, and waited.

The silence was deafening. Time seemed to stand still as my mind wandered into dangerous territory, torn between my deepest desires and terrifying unknowns. My heart started to race as I struggled to control my breathing, all the while images of you floated through my head. The way your hands felt on my skin, the sting on my ass as you struck and the soothing feeling as you rubbed the pain away, the powerlessness I felt when you held my neck and pulled me back toward you only to have you whisper how much you needed me in my ear. The intense dichotomy only serving to enhance my growing worry and desperate need for you.

The silence was broken by the sound of your car coming up the drive. My stomach clenched as I heard it come to a stop and your car door open. My senses so heightened I could hear your foot hit the ground, then your other as you closed the door behind you, the slam startling me. I could hear each step getting louder as you made your way to the greenhouse, opened the door, stepped inside and closed it behind you.

Then, silence. I listened intently, trying to hear your footsteps, your breathing, anything at all that would tell me if you were inside the room with me. My mind scrambling to figure out what was happening. Was it even your car that I heard? What if it was someone else, and I was standing here naked and blindfolded? Everything inside of me was telling me to take my blindfold off and turn around. My mind was reeling with every possible scenario, and just as the fear that began spinning out of control was about to win out over my fear of your disappointment, I heard your voice.

“I see you did what I asked this time. That’s a step in the right direction. Good girl.”

I was so relieved that I started to tell you how happy I was to hear your voice, but then I remembered why I was here. You had said not to make a sound. I was here because I didn’t follow your directions and I knew that not following them now would probably not go over well. So I stayed still, silent, and tense. Your footsteps came slowly, the sound getting closer and closer until I heard them come to a stop just behind me.

Your fingertips brushed against my back, pushing my hair over my shoulder to expose my neck, where I felt your lips place a soft kiss as your other hand gently wrapped around my throat, pulling me back against you as you breathed into my ear, “You look so good baby…so hot… and I am going to fuck every inch of your body inside and out, but first you need to learn that you can’t just do what you want. When I ask you to do something, you do it. Now, bend over, turn your head to the right and lay it down. Hands and arms on the table out to the sides.”

Your hand released my neck as you moved away from me. I moved my body into position, but apparently made the mistake of moving my legs together too closely. I felt a swift slap on my ass, causing me to wince, that came with a verbal reminder that you did not tell me to close my legs. I quickly spread them apart.

Suddenly, I felt your finger between my legs as you groaned, “mmm, you are so fucking wet…,” sliding it deep into me, then two, as I pushed against you, my legs shaking and my body burning with desire.

You already knew how hot I was and you contemplated whether to let me cum or not, but you need it as badly as I did, so you wrapped your other arm around my body and teased my clit as your fingers continued to push in and out of my pussy. Your lips found my ear and I heard your demand for me to cum… and cum HARD for you… right now. That was all it took and I fell part, your arms holding me up as my muscles clenched and rolled around your fingers, my head falling back against your shoulder as my screams echoed against the glass walls.

“That’s all you get, my naughty, disobedient girl,” you told me as I felt you move away after placing my hands and arms back into position on the table.

“Legs apart. Head down. Ass up. That’s right. Good girl.”

I did everything you asked of me, although my body was desperately wanting to lay down, the orgasm you just gave me leaving me feeling as if every muscle had been spent already, but I knew that resting was nowhere in sight. Your hand began to caress my ass, one cheek then the other, languidly rubbing each one, and even though I wasn’t able to see your face I knew that you were appreciating the view. I wriggled just a bit in an effort to tease you and I knew that was a mistake the moment I did it because I felt your hand stop and clench my ass, saying,

“You really don’t want to tease me right now…” and that is when I felt the first slap.

My breath hitched as I bit down hard on my lip, wincing in pain as you spanked me, raining four hard smacks on my soft and tender skin.

“That was for teasing me… I told you not to move.”

Your hands began to massage my tender skin then spread my ass apart, holding it open, making me feel totally exposed. A feeling you knew I wasn’t comfortable with at all. I felt your thumb dip lower into my slit, my wetness coating it instantly as you dragged it back up, stopping at my asshole. My body began to shiver as you circled it, with a gentle pressure that made sure I knew what was coming without you having to say a word. You pushed harder and the tip of your thumb slid into me, forcing an audible gasp from my lips.

“Shhh…”, you quieted me, knowing that the silence in and of itself was painful. As you slid your thumb all the way in, your hands kept me spread wide as you moved in and out of me. I felt your thumb twist inside my ass and then felt your fingers slide into my wet pussy, making me cry out. This time you allowed it, as you brought them back up to my ass and replacing your thumb with two wet fingers, pushing them all the way in.

“Mmmm baby, your ass is so tight. Do you feel that? My fingers in your ass? You like that, don’t you? I know you do, my hot little slut… Tell me how much you like it. Tell me what you are.”

That was all the encouragement I needed to break the torturous silence, and everything I’d been holding back came flowing out.

“Yes… god… I love your fingers in my ass. I love your hands on me. I love you touching me. I want you so bad, please … more…”

You pushed them in harder, deeper, still slow and methodical as you worked my body into a frenzy.

“Tell me what you are…”, you demanded.

“I’m your…”

“You’re my what? Tell me…now,” as you started to tease my clit again, your fingers still assaulting my ass.

“Oh god… YES… I’m a fucking slut. I’m a whore. I’m a dirty little whore…”, I whimpered breathlessly, my mind barely keeping up with what was happening around me or to me.

“That’s right, you’re a dirty little slut… and who’s little whore are you?”

“Yours… oh god… yours.”, I cry out.

Your voice reaches through my mental haze and asks, “My what?”

“Your…”, I cry out breathlessly as you deftly circle my clit, my body on the brink of another orgasm.

“My what?”, you say again, demanding my answer, slamming your fingers hard into my ass.

“Your SLUT…” I yell, my legs shaking uncontrollably as my ass rocks back, meeting you stroke for stroke.

“Good girl. Now stand up.” I hear you say as you pull your fingers out of my ass, off my clit, and take them away, leaving me shaking, shivering, and desperate.

I raise myself up slowly, feeling the heady rush threaten to topple me, but then I feel your strong arms reach around to steady me. Feeling grateful for your presence, even though I still haven’t seen your face, I do my best to straighten my body and stand up. I feel your fingertips brush down my arms to my wrists and pull them back. One at a time, cold metal wraps around my them as I hear the familiar sound of your handcuffs closing and trapping my hands behind me.

“Turn around and face me,” you say, “and kneel.”

Turning my body and kneeling, I hear a rustling of what sounds like fabric, then your belt unbuckling and being pulled quickly through its loops then being set on the potting table with a clink. My body began to react to what my brain was telling it… you were taking off your clothes.

“Open your mouth,” were the next words I hear say and I promptly obey, my mind no longer capable of questioning, wondering, or even worrying about what was to come. All I knew now was raw hunger, like a feral cat in heat.

I feel the smooth head of your cock brush against my lips, the sweet and salty taste of your arousal against my tongue as you push into my waiting mouth. I feel you slide in as your hand cups the back of my head, bringing me forward as a deep moan escapes my throat, rattling against your rock hardness.

You groan, arching your back, and say “Suck it hard,” your need for me apparent as you continue to thrust into my waiting mouth.

I suck, lick, and revel in your fucking my mouth like I was starving for you. I whimper, moan, and gag as you reach down to grab my breasts, pinching my nipples and keeping me distracted, but constantly focused. Your cock swelling in my mouth, your hand gripping tighter on my head, my mouth holding you inside, taking you deep, and just when I think you’re going to empty yourself into me, you pull out and I can hear your sharp, ragged breath as you pull off my blindfold and stare into my eyes.

Never looking away, you bring me back to a standing position and kiss me deeply, your fingers wrapping themselves in my long, dark hair, your tongue probing my mouth. Claiming it. Marking it. You drop your hands from my hair down to my breasts again, my nipples hard pebbles that are searing into your chest. You step back just far enough to take them between your fingers and roll, twist, and pull them. Spreading my legs again with one knee, this time even farther, as you cup between my legs with your hand then push two fingers deeply into my soaking wetness. Your name escapes my lips just as I feel your fingers slip out of me and your whole hand come down hard on my clit with a loud slap.

I scream as another blow comes down on my pussy, the wet slap echoing through the room, then your fingers are inside me again.

“Look at me…,” you tell me. I try to lift my head to lock on your eyes but feel lost and disoriented, my only awareness being your fingers inside of me, your hand on my breast, and your voice.

You raise your hand from my breast, place my head in your hand and bring my eyes to yours.

“How many days did you make me wait before telling me you couldn’t finish the project in time?” Your voice stern, as your fingers continued to slowly fuck me.

I stammered, “wh… what?”, trying to understand what you were asking me.

“We are here because you failed in doing what I had asked and, beyond that, waited to tell me. Now, I’ll ask again, how many days did you make me wait before telling me?”

I gulped, feeling an overwhelming sense of pleasure, pain, guilt, and nervousness, as I whispered, “Ten..”

“Ten what?” You said, holding my face firmly.

“Ten days…” I said, even softer than before.

“Ten days what?” Your patience clearly wearing thin as you glare at me.

“Ten days… Sir.” I stammer.

“That’s better,” you said, clearly ready to move onto what I could only assume was the punishment I was here for. “Now, turn around, bend over the table, body flat, head to the side.”

I turned around, laying flat on the table and felt my fear rising up again. Your hand caressing my ass slowly, spreading me again wide. I hear a squirt and feel something cold and wet drip down over my asshole and then feel something against my tight opening. I wince as you push it in deeper and I feel the hard intruder slide into me, stretching me wide.

“That’s right baby, take it all in,” and I know that it’s your favorite plug that you love to have me wear.

“Now, you said ten days that you made me wait, and you also made me worry about it. You know I don’t like to worry, and you know you should never make me wait. For that you’re going to be spanked. How many times?”

Racking my brain for a number I stammer, “I… I don’t know… I…”

Leading me, you say, “How many days did you make me wait?”

I wrestle with an answer, realizing where this is going, “Ten… ten days.”

Smiling knowingly you ask, “And how many times should you be spanked?”

“Ten.” I say meekly.

“Good girl, now.. you’re going to count for me. Don’t move. If you move, we start over. Do you understand?”

Oh god, I think. My brain grasping for anything at all that will get me out of this, but coming up with nothing, I say, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”, you growl.

Shit. “Yes, Sir.”

The first one came fast, hard, and made me jump. I tried to move away as I cried out “One!”

“No, that’s not one. You moved. Start again.”

I felt like crying as your hand came down on my other cheek, searing through my skin with an audible slap. “One…” I whimpered, but held completely still.

“Louder!” you said.

“ONE…” I yelled.

Just as you said “Good Girl”, the next blow came down and I yelled out “TWO” through gritted teeth.

Three and four came in rapid succession as I tried not to move, but it became harder and harder each time. Tears were streaming down my face, and my ass felt like it was on fire.

“FIVE…… SIX……,” I sobbed, as I felt myself starting to slowly slip out of my head into the black hole of the pain.

“SEVEN…… EIGHT….,” your arms tightening around me, as if you knew that these last two were going to be the hardest for me to keep still for and you didn’t want me to move because you really didn’t want to make us start over.

“NINE…” I cried, desperate for it to end.

Then, the last blow landed on my ass and I screamed “TEN” as my body went limp across the table.

Your hand began to gently caress my tender skin that felt as if it was on fire, your fingertips tracing the welts left by your hand, then dipped lower into my wet folds. You gently pull the plug out of my ass and I feel the head of your hard cock straining against my opening. I moan as you plunge into me, you grunting as you grab my hips and begin to slam into my ass with abandon. My cries of pain turning to cries of passion as I meet your hips stroke for stroke, pushing back into you. You place one hand on my shoulder and the other hand into my hair and pull my head back, neither of us aware of anything but the feel of our bodies locked together.

“Fuck… you feel… so good…”, you moan.

I have no ability to say anything beyond making incoherent guttural sounds that only serve to make you drive harder into me. I don’t know where I am, what I’m doing, or why I’m doing it. I only know that your cock is buried in my ass and I never want you to stop. My legs start to shake, my stomach starts to quiver, my juices are dripping down my leg and I’m about to cum.

“Don’t cum… not yet…”, you say and I do everything I can to stop myself. You take your hand off my shoulder and reach down between my legs and begin to tease my clit, circling it, rubbing it, rolling it in your fingers, knowing that you’ve brought me as close to the edge as you can without pushing me over and still you keep going.

“I… can’t.. going… to.. fuck.. god.. cum… stop… please”, and that’s when I feel myself start to topple off the edge.

“Cum…now. Cum for me, baby…”, you say huskily.

My orgasm comes hard and fast the moment you tell me to. I scream your name loudly and just as I feel the first clench of my muscles around your cock you spurt deep into my ass, filling me up, as my muscles roll and grip around your length. My juices continuing to flow out of me, dripping to the ground as my screams begin to quiet into uncontrollable whimpers and mewls. You lay flat along my back, both of us completely out of breath and totally spent, reveling in the out of body experience we just shared.

You shift and stand up, pulling yourself out of me slowly. I hear the jingle of keys and feel movement on my wrists as you unlock the handcuffs and release me. You help me up off the table and turn me into you slowly, bringing my head to your chest as you stroke my face and kiss the top of my head, holding me up because my legs haven’t come to their senses yet. You turn around so that your back is to the table and lean your body against it, letting my body fall into your arms.

“You okay?”, you ask, a bit of concern in your voice.

“Mhmm,” I answer, still unable to really talk.

“You won’t make me wait again, will you.” Clearly a statement and not a question, as you drag your fingers up and down my spine.

“Huh uh…,” I mutter.

“I didn’t think so,” you laugh.

I turn my head up to look at you and capturing your eyes I say with a teasing grin, “but if you make punishment such a hot experience all the time, where’s my incentive to be good?”

“You really don’t want to tease me right now…”, you growl playfully, leaning over to nip my lower lip.

I have had submissive tendencies for a long time, but this was the first time I took active steps to transforming my fantasies into reality. I searched for a dominant woman who could receive me, as anonymously as possible, by buying a magazine which contained several ads of the sort.

Many ads had pictures, but I chose one with no picture, signed “Mistress Abigail” and boy was I lucky to have done so. What drew me to it was the tone and the fact that, as soon as I read it, I knew that she was someone who can be trusted and who understood the kind of needs that men like me have.

I was quite nervous as I called her from a public phone booth and tried to sound casual, saying it was “about the ad”. She spoke slowly in an authoritative but neutral voice, with just a hint of sexiness. She asked me what I was looking for. I vaguely answered that I was hoping for an initiation in the field that she mastered. Then, abruptly, she asked me if I was erect or not. I blushed and looked around anxiously, to check if anyone overheard. But there wasn’t anyone around, so I pulled myself together and admitted that, indeed, the conversation made me erect. Then she started asking more questions, all the way to very personal questions: my weight and height (175 pounds, 6 feet 2 inches), marital status (married), sporting habits (cycling, golf), favorite movie (One flew over the cuckoo’s nest), body marks like piercings or tattoos (none), sexual orientation (straight), number of masturbations per week (5), frequency of intercourse per week (3), experience with anal (fingers), pain tolerance (mild to moderate), personal fetishes (stockings, schoolgirl and office outfits, see-through lingerie, dildos among others), preferred female orifice (vagina) and, finally, previous encounters with a Mistress (none). After the last answer she paused and I had the feeling she smiled at the other end of the line. My cock gave an extra jerk upwards.

Then she asked for an address where she could send me a parcel. I was reluctant, and asked if it was absolutely necessary. Mistress retorted that discussing her instructions was not a part of the contract, and I was to choose on the spot if I preferred to hang up and search for another Domme or I would give her the address and be ready for a worthy punishment when I got to her, to repay for trying to undermine her decisions. That choice was no choice, and I started dictating my work address right away (I was afraid at home my wife would receive it). I swallowed hard and couldn’t believe that I was accumulating punishment even before anything had actually begun. Still, I held my nerve and didn’t dare ask what the punishment would be.

As soon as she put everything down, she just said: “The parcel will contain further instructions. You will follow them exactly. Do not call me again before you receive it. Good bye”. And she hang up without letting me say a word.

One week later, on a Tuesday, just as I was beginning to think that Mistress Abigail forgot about me, and I was wondering whether I should call her in spite of her forbidding me, the parcel arrived. My hands were sweaty and I couldn’t wait to get home and take a look inside. It contained various items like a map with a red mark and the destination address, a black leather hood and a matching collar, a pair of metal cuffs, an enema kit. A small ID-format picture of Mistress Abigail was also there. It only showed her face with a beautiful light-hearted smile, and her hazel-eyes were wonderfully matched by her long amber hair. She looked awfully young, fresh and innocent and didn’t match the somewhat severe voice she had on the phone when I hesitated to give her my address.

The instructions were at the bottom, and read as follows:

- You will arrive on Saturday, at 6 PM sharp. If you are late, whatever your reason is, you will not be allowed to come in

- No sexual activity is allowed during the 72 hours prior to our meeting. That does NOT mean just orgasms, it extends to intercourse with your wife, masturbation and all voluntary contact with your penis or anus other than for hygiene purposes.

- 48 hours before you arrive, take days off from work. Enjoy them. Go fishing or cycling, play golf or do whatever relaxes you. Do NOT just stay indoors, do NOT consume any alcohol, do NOT check your mail and do NOT turn on you computer. Do NOT consult ANY pornographic or sexual-containing material during this time, the alternative to that is looking at my photo and mentally rehearsing your arrival here.

- 9 hours before you arrive, give yourself an enema. Practice at least 3 evacuations. Thoroughly clean the kit and bring it with you.

- 6 hours before you arrive, shave all your body from the neck down. I don’t care what excuse you find for your wife, you must be properly shaved when you arrive here. Pay special attention to your anus, pubis and scrotum. Do not cut yourself. When you have done this, slap your balls thoroughly 20 (twenty) times while standing. Do not sit for at least 10 minutes afterward.

- Of course I cannot verify if you respect all of this or not. If you DO follow the instructions, know that it pleases me and that it is a way for you to fully enjoy the experience that you chose to go through.

- take a pair of the sexiest black thongs from your wife’s wardrobe and buy a second pink pair to offer to your wife as a gift. Bring both of them with you in separate gift bags: pink for the black pair and black for the pink pair.

- go to a sex shop and buy a leather riding crop and a rattan cane. Do NOT buy them via Internet. Don’t bring them into your house overnight, leave them in your car.

- don’t bring any photo or video camera with you.

- When you arrive, you will turn off your mobile phone, leave your car in the parking by the fountain, put on the leather hood before leaving your car, take the parcel and walk to the house. Upon arrival, you will undress fully and put your clothes in the locker outside. You will attach your neck collar, kneel in front of the door and place the cuffs with your hands behind you. I will come and open for you. Do NOT knock.

- don’t worry, no permanent signs or physical harm will be left on your body

- you may feast your eyes on me as much as you want throughout your stay, and I will allow you to touch me at specific times, it is part of your contract. You will not be allowed to penetrate me in any kind. I want it be clear to you that I am a Mistress, not a whore.

- You may only speak when spoken to, and the only expressions allowed are “Yes, Mistress”, “Please, Mistress” and “Thank you, Mistress”. Saying “No” is strictly forbidden. Should you dislike anything, you can use your safeword, which is “strawberry”, at any time with the exception of a certain stage of the session. You will understand about this in due time. Pronouncing your safeword will put an immediate end to the session. In that eventual case, you will be released, you must dress, leave the premises and never try to contact me again.

- If you disagree or not feel ready to follow these instructions, send me back the parcel just as you received it and never try to contact me again. Otherwise, see you on Saturday.

I re-read the instructions several times, trying to learn them and intending to fully obey them. The first thing I wanted to try was the black hood. As I closed the zipper behind my head I felt tranquility and a strange excitement taking over. My heart and my cock were pulsating hard, and after a few minutes, I couldn’t stand the pressure any more. I masturbated while looking at Mistress Abigail’s portrait and recalling in my mind the sound of her voice. As soon as my wife got home, I did my best to get her in the mood for sex, and we enjoyed a good share of it that evening.

Before the 72-hour fasting I was at work. I went to the men’s room and I masturbated silently with my eyes closed, picturing various attractive females that came to the thought, mainly co-workers that I met that day. The last orgasm was about 30 minutes before the deadline.

After that, my lustful thoughts followed me, in spite of the increased sexual activity from previous days. On several occasions I found myself wanting to masturbate again. I glanced at women in the street, I imagined caressing the beautiful tender ass of female trainees or secretaries, and almost fell in the honey trap once. It was one of my female collaborators who came in my office and delighted me with a generous cleavage. I had met this woman before, but it was as if that day, for the first time, I realised exactly just how beautiful her breasts were. I had an erection from the very beginning, and she was doing everything to maintain it. She bent over the desk indicating something on a file. I looked at her finger and fantasized about her hand holding my testicles, then squeezing them lightly, then harder and harder. I squirmed on my chair. She was trying to make a point and I absently agreed without even listening. I just peeped at her chest with the corner of my eye. Her breasts very round and full, shaking lewdly when she moved. She wore a white bra that just barely covered her nipples. Later, she turned to pick something on the floor, and I looked under her skirt as high up her thighs as I could. I found myself wondering when was the last time she had had sex, and if she had any dominant tendencies. The glasses that she was wearing, her terribly-busy- and upset-by-this-point-attitude made me want to kiss her mouth. Fortunately she left before that, throwing me a “thanks”. But the pleasure had been all mine…

On the last day, I left telling my wife I had a meeting in another town for the week-end. She didn’t ask any questions, I do get to travel on business like that regularly. I packed my things (my wife’s underwear included) and took a hotel room where I could prepare undisturbed.

The enema was quite unpleasant, but when I shaved I was incredibly excited and maintained a thorough erection even though I tried to touch my cock as little as possible. I didn’t even TRY to chase away my lustful thoughts. All I could think about was Mistress Abigail inspecting the quality of my job with her fingers, spreading my ass cheeks and feeling my scrotum for any forgotten hairs that may justify a few licks of the riding crop.

I arrived about twenty minutes earlier. I parked the car, put on the leather hood and I tried to walk calmly the one hundred yards that separated the car from the house, but my knees were shaking a bit. The place looked deserted and that reassured my as I was taking off my clothes, but after I clicked the cuffs shut, doubt started to creep up on me. I was completely naked and already displaying a stubborn erection in front of a house I have never been to, and in which I didn’t know what was expecting me. Luckily, in a short while I heard heels clicking and the door opened to an astonishingly beautiful Mistress dressed in fine lingerie. She had her innocent-looking face with a warm smile, and the fresh body of a teenager. Her bra had clipped holes that left visible her caramel-colored nipples. Black stockings drew the attention to her creamy thighs and under a way-too-short schoolgirl’s skirt, her beautiful sex showed completely naked and hair-free. I would have gladly eaten her right then and there.

“You must be Jimmy”, she said.

“Yes, Mistress Abigail”, I answered in a low voice which I didn’t recognize as my own.

“Welcome”, she said.

Mistress Abigail bent forward delighting me further with the sight of her voluptuous and firm breasts. She produced a leash that I thought she would attach to my neck collar. Instead, she connected it to a smaller collar-like device that she tightened around the base of my ball-sack, separating the testicles from the rest of my body. First she pulled on it to make me stand, and then added: “Come in”. I could see the back of her classy outfit, with a crack in the skirt, that left her beautiful pearly ass in plain view. The three days of sexual starving all fell on me at once, and I felt I was going crazy with lust.

She led me to a large living room and attached the loose end of the leash to a chain that was hanging from the ceiling. The total length was too short for me to sit or kneel.

She girlishly said “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back”, and turned on a video with the tape of a man that was down on all fours and was being caned by two beautiful Dominas. His ass was a glowing red already, but he was not restrained. I could see he was struggling to cope with his pain: he was shaking his head, slowly balancing back and forth between strokes and panting viciously, but trying to keep silent. One of the females would shortly massage his genitals once in a while, to encourage him to take more.

My cock instantly became iron-hard and I looked on hypnotized, wondering how it would feel like if I were in that man’s place.

A little later, Mistress Abigail came back, and turned off the video. She had put on my wife’s black pair of underwear.

“Your wife’s size suits me perfectly, Jimmy.”

She took my leash and led me on a staircase that led to the basement, and then through a small door that opened on a fully-equipped pleasure room. It was black and pink, and home to a few chairs, benches and odd-looking stools, a bed, a collection of restraints and pain-inflicting devices. There were also several mirrors.

“There’s no need to be anxious, boy. For the beginning, we will simply feed your imagination a bit.”

“Thank you, Mistress”, was all I could say.

Mistress attached me to one of the chairs, that had a large hole in the seat. I didn’t understand why, until I realized that Mistress was lubricating my anus, and that she inserted something small and round. I didn’t oppose, but the small “something” quickly started to inflate inside me, with the power of Mistress’ fist. I was being thoroughly stretched, and I couldn’t manage to expel the object. She watched my face and she only stopped when I frowned in pain. She waited a few seconds, pumped twice more, and kissed me on the cheek saying:

“You will thank me for this later”.

She then brought in a slave-girl through a different door than the one we used to come in. The girl’s hands were tied behind her back. She was only wearing a black bra and she looked young and fresh. Mistress immobilized her face-up on a high bench, with her knees pulled up and widespread. She lowered her brassier and placed a forceps on each of her nipples. The girl watched as her nipples were being crushed by the bad metal, grimacing and squealing each time and then relaxing as she was getting used to the pain. Mistress placed them in such a way that they not only pinched the tender flesh, but also twisted it when she released the instruments, which hang down on each side of her chest.

Mistress then selected a cane and started to caress the girl with it.

“Girl, you know you deserve this, and you know that it will be painful…”, Mistress said. The victim only whimpered in response. “But after that, if you are good, I will let Carl have fun with you, and that will be enough to wash your humiliation, won’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress”, she said in a scared voice.

“I want you to count them out loud.”

The blows started landing on her beautiful snow-white ass at a steady moderate rhythm, raising welts. The numbers went by, with the voice slowly disintegrating into long grunts. Every three or four turns, Mistress Abigail would voluntarily avoid hitting her victim, placing the blow in the air under her ass. The swooshing sound was identical, however, and the girl anticipated the pain all the same. She still buckled against her bounds and, curiously, I felt she suffered even more on these “skipped” blows. It was on the third such occasion that she started crying, although she had not been hit. The initial sobs evolved into lovely tears and vivid panting. She couldn’t focus on the count anymore, and the suffering showed on her flushed face just as much as on her abused buttocks and upper thighs.

From time to time, Mistress Abigail would pause and comfort the slave-girl by stroking her hair or fondling her abdomen and buckled arms.

Mistress finished with two “skipped” blows that made the girl scream as if they were the most painful of all. By then she was trembling uncontrollably and her face was washed with tears. She was left to cry a little more, and Mistress inserted two fingers in the girl’s vagina.

“I must check to see if you are wet enough, pretty thing”, she said.

Mistress Abigail was pleased with the amount of her lubrication, and took away the forceps. The girl once again squealed as blood invaded her tortured nipples.

Then, Mistress Abigail brought in Carl, who was a strong black man. She caressed his testicles for a while, to make him hard. He had a huge fat member, about 9 inches or more, and he became erect pretty easily looking at the beautiful helpless girl, who fell silent as the bull approached her. She received his meat with a sigh of relief, Mistress Abigail’s hand guiding him inside the wet and slippery orifice.

“Fuck her good, and leave your cum deep inside her, Carl”, Mistress said.

The girl’s tears soon turned to moans of pleasure, as Carl was picking up the pace. She was savoring the sensations that spread from her sex through the entire body. Mistress Abigail came to sit on one of my knees. She put an arm around my shoulders and started to whisper as we were both enjoying the show.

“Is your ass plug less uncomfortable now, Jimmy?”

“Yes, Mistress”, I admitted.

Therefore she smiled and proceeded to inflating it even further, until it became uncomfortable again.

“Do you like what you see, Jimmy?”, she asked.

“Yes, Mistress”, I answered with a dry throat.

“I knew you would, boy. You see, this slave-girl is well trained. She knows that satisfaction must be earned, that’s why she accepts all that pleases me. You must learn that too, Jimmy.”

Carl was giving the girl a rough ride, using her body as a plaything to satisfy himself. The slave-girl seemed to like it nonetheless. When the intercourse became too monotonous, my attention drifted to Mistress’ presence. She was wearing a flowery fragrance that made me desperately wanted to kiss her skin, but I knew better than to jump at the occasion. Her legs were perfectly shaped all the way up to the feminine pubis, now hidden by my wife’s lingerie. The breasts, seen from such close range, looked lovingly lazy and inviting and her nipples were obscenely pricking the air with each breath. Her neck, young and slender was radiating warmth and must have been heaven to nibble on. But her best asset was the beautiful innocent face, expressing joy and vague satisfaction.

She wore very little makeup and a natural-colored lipstick, that rendered her lovely mouth even more suitable for a kiss. I don’t know whether she caught me looking or if she guessed my thought, but she kissed my lips on the spot, an giggled girlishly afterwards, pushing my desires out of their bounds.

After that, we heard Carl and the girl screaming together in the middle of their sexual discharge. Carl casually pulled out and left, while Mistress Abigail hurried to her feet, released me from the chair and lead me by the leash to the slave-girl. It was awkward walking with the anal plug.

“You know what would please me now, Jimmy?…You cleaning my slave-girl with your mouth. Go on, boy!”, she said, pulling me closer to the freshly fucked pussy. I was so excited that I would have done anything she asked me, so I didn’t hesitate and started licking from below her slit, where globs of cum were dripping regularly. The taste made me want more, and I earnestly lapped and chewed at the girl’s genitals. She was watching me with a mocking and satisfied look, as Mistress scooped out more cum with her fingers from deep inside her vagina, and fed it to me.

“That’s enough”, Mistress said after a few minutes, and pulled me away from the sweet spot.

She immobilized me face-down on one of the stools with multiple leather belts. My ass was exposed and my erect cock was far from anything that could touch it. Mistress brought the stool in a position where I was just inches away from the pussy I just cleaned. I could feel its smell, and not being able to reach for it drove me insane. Mistress put the previously used cane between the girl’s teeth, so she can’t talk to me, and then addressed me with another one of her killer smiles:

“I will make you remember this thong of your wife’s for a long-long time, Jimmy boy…”

She went to get an odd-shaped dildo that she buckled in front of me. It was curved, with one end inserted in her beautiful sex and a black shaft destined for my ass.

“It’s not only girls that get fucked here, Jimmy. That wouldn’t be fare, would it?”, Mistress said. “Oh, and don’t worry, I made sure your cock is in no danger of getting stimulated”, she giggled.

The penis-shaped part shocked me by its sheer size, because it was easily as big as Carl’s cock. I dreaded its size, but at I was curious to try the sensations it could give me. I also wanted to make Mistress Abigail proud.

“Jimmy, meet the Invader! Invader, this is Jimmy”, she said.

“Would you like it dry or rather lubricate it a little, Jimmy?”, she teased me while rubbing its heavy head on my cheek.

I opened my mouth, but only the head fitted in, and I tried to depose as much saliva on it as I could.

“OK, I’ll be nice to you and put one some lube jelly this time, boy”, Mistress added and went to my back.

She quickly deflated and removed the anal plug, before placing the Invader’s head on my gaped anus. The head passed quickly, and then she pushed in gently, one inch at a time. As she was taking away my virginity, Mistress Abigail soothed the pain by saying things like “There, there, boy…Take it aaaaall the way in…Thaaat’s it, Jimmy…”. It filled me and stretched me slightly more than the plug and I felt it push and rub against my secretion-loaded prostate and the walls of my insides. Mistress had been right, I thanked her for having used the inflatable plug on me first, otherwise I never could have accommodated the large instrument.

When it went all the way in, Mistress congratulated me:

“Well done, Jimmy…”

She then started punishing me methodically with it. I could tell by the sexy sounds that she was enjoying herself. Mistress’ little cries of excitement aroused me further and further. I squirmed, but there was no way of contributing to the stimulation, or approaching the sex that was on display just before my eyes and mouth. I felt like crying with frustration, and I didn’t care anymore that the slave-girl was watching, smiling at my predicament.

Mistress teased me by reminding me of her:

“Do you like my slave-girl, Jimmy? Would you have liked to be in Carl’s place? To feel her soft pussy, and empty your heavy testicles inside it, boy? Ha, boy? Would you have enjoyed that, boy?”

She fucked me earnestly, caressing my back. After a while she started to slap my ass. She also made short pauses when she slid her hand under me, and took my balls in the palm of her hand, squeezing them mercilessly. That excited me more and more, and I felt my orgasm building up.

“Ooouuh, you’re a little pain slut, aren’t you, Jimmy?”

I only managed to grunt and another jolt of pain gave a peculiar turn to my “Yes, Mistress”.

As soon as I caught a glimpse of the orgasm, I went chasing after it and in a few minutes I managed to pass really close. Mistress sensed it, and slowed down her rythm, triggering a feeling of despair in me. She laughed in response.

“Oh boy, you must be soooooo horny, Jimmy. Do you want me to pull out and let you swallow your frustration, boy?”

I didn’t answer, and I was seriously considering the use of my safeword, but her next line gave me a hint of hope:

“Or do you want me to carry on, boy?”

“Please, Mistress”

“Will you be a good boy and wait until I tell you to cum, Jimmy?”

“Yes, Mistress… Please, Mistress.”

She kept on torturing me in this sweet and unbelievable way for a long time. My raped anus felt raw, but stopping was the last thing on my mind. She came unexpectedly, brutally pushing the monster inside me several times. Then, finally, she bent forward and I could feel her warm breasts on my back while she said:

“Remember your insolence on the phone the other day, Jimmy?” I couldn’t believe she was bringing that up right then…”You owe me ten strokes with the cane for it, boy!”, she threatened me and quickly pulled out leaving me in a puddle of sweat and tension. My sore ass was gaping and I was pushing back searching for a little stimulation, anything…It came in the form of sharp pain from the cane in Mistress Abigail’s beautiful hand.

She gave me the ten licks in succession, hitting me hard. It stung like hell, but I was so excited that it spread through my pelvis and echoed in my cock. I badly needed her to come back and fuck me some more. Luckily, she did.

“Make me proud and cum for me, Jimmy!”, she said as the Invader penetrated me once again.

I galloped for it, panting desperately.

“I know your cock must be hungry for a touch, but you have no choice but to cum, boy” she added giggling while she continued to punish me cruelly with the large torture tool.

I started to grunt and to ejaculate my first load of the day, but the convulsions of my orgasm were stifled by the strong leather restraints. I blushed when I came back to my senses and realized once again the slave-girl had witnessed the whole scene.

Mistress let me recover for a few minutes. She released the girl and led her out of the room. As she stood up I could see more cum pouring out and trickling down the insides of her thighs. Then Mistress returned and stood in front of me without saying anything. Her pubis was right in front of my face, but she kept her skin just two or three inches away. The orgasm had not been enough to satisfy all of my lust. The divine smell and the sight of her beautiful sex, with the slightly parted and moist labia was heading me straight back to torment.

After a minute, she got closer and commenced rubbing herself on my face, pulling me by the ring on top of the hood. She smeared her juices on my nose and obscenely pressed her clitoris against me without saying a thing.

When she was sure to have got me in the mood again, she released me from my bonds and pulled on my testicle-collar to make me stand. Walking once again was awkward business. She led me, not far, in a corner where an odd-looking latex sheet layed down. It was larger than a man, stretched by a rectangular metal frame. Mistress told me to lay on it face up, which I did. She then covered me with another, similar sheet, which had two holes: a small one just above my mouth, and a larger one above my cock. She wrapped me carefully in it, covering my eyes, ears and nose.

“You didn’t say you suffer from claustrophobia, so I thought of this little game, Jimmy. Just relax and play along, you’ll like it!”

She inserted an inflatable gag with a tube that allowed me to breath, but didn’t allow me to speak. Mistress then pulled my genitals, the still-erect cock and my testicles, out through the larger opening. The rest of my body was neatly wrapped between the two latex sheaths. I then heard a small engine working, and I realized it must have been a vacuum pump, because the sheath was beginning to stick to my skin, coating it with an outer layer of latex which also immobilized me completely. I started to panic a bit, but Mistress was there to reassure me:

“Shht..shhh, boy. Just relax. Don’t be afraid. You’re missing out on a great submissive experience if you’re afraid, Jimmy”. The noise stopped, and I heard Mistress’ heels going away, then two pairs of heels approaching. I didn’t know what this meant.

“Jimmy, meet Fifi. Fifi, this is Jimmy.”

Fifi didn’t say anything. She turned out to be my fuck partner. She casually sat on top of my cock and started taking it in. Needless to say, her pussy felt great. She was very wet. She found a pleasant rhythm and she kept it. I understood why Mistress said I wouldn’t need my safeword: I hoped it would never stop.

The two must have concocted some sort of scenario before. The woman didn’t make any sound (I don’t know whether she was gagged or just instructed not to express herself). She fucked me silently and as much as I could tell she didn’t enjoy an orgasm while she fucked me. Mistress was talking to me, saying things like: “I know you like her, boy, but don’t cum yet!”, “Your cock must be very hungry right now, but you will not release yourself until I tell you to!”. From time to time, Mistress Abigail would expertly put her hand between us, and squeeze my testicles, sometimes mildly and rolling them in her palm, sometimes firmly and holding them while I squirmed in a delightful mixture of pain and pleasure. It was such a sweet torture that I actively and gladly cooperated to prolong my frustration. I let her know through muffled moans when I was getting too close, and then the other woman would suddenly stop and raise herself from my cock, leaving me crazy with hunger for her. Mistress would grab the base of my cock to hold it still and she would slap my swollen and sensitive glans with just her fingers, sending streams of pain through my member. It was a deep and “unpleasant” pain, quite different from the one she induced in my testicles, that stopped my orgasm in its tracks and made me lust for it even more. She would let the pain sink in a few seconds, and then the other woman returned to her cruel pussy-massage. All my movement were blocked, and that brought on a feeling of helplessness and vulnerability that enhanced my arousal.

Finally, Mistress Abigail beckoned me to enjoy it and to cum inside her, which I did in a never-ending gush of sperm that I released into Fifi. As soon as my partner felt me pulsating, she sat down on me, burying my cock to the hilt inside her, and held there terribly still, thus reducing drastically her stimulation just when I most badly needed it. Mistress Abigail encouraged me in a soft voice: “That’s it, boy, that’s it. Fill up her pussy. Thaaat’s it…”. The girl patiently waited until I was spent, and only then resumed her rhythmical upside-down, as if to mock my almost ruined orgasm, and probably to drain out the cum I left in her. It did send a few more shivers of pleasure, and I quickly felt I could start cumming again, but after a short while, she simply got up and left, with the clicking of her shoes fading after the door was shut behind her. Had I been free, I would have followed her, kissing her feet and begging her to help me finish properly. But I knew it was Mistress Abigail’s choice for things to happen this way, and that further frustrated me.

My cock stayed erect a long time afterward, and Mistress carefully wiped me using a glove, and she let me

recover for a few minutes.

She later peeled the latex off my body and removed the gag. I was tired and very grateful and I whispered mechanically “Thank you, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress…Thank you, Mistress.”.

“Pull yourself back together, boy, because I’m not through with you yet.”, she said in a menacing voice.

I noticed she changed to the new pink pair of underwear I had bought. It gave away the contour of her beautiful sex, and outlined her perfect ass, topped by a sexy red ribbon.

She pulled me to my feet and led me to a comfortable armchair, while she sat herself in a similar one, facing me.

“Jimmy, I assume you never masturbated in front of your wife. Is this true?”

“Yes, Mistress”.

“I also assume your wife never masturbated in front of you, Jimmy. Is this also true?”, Mistress said while caressing her left breast. Her moves troubled me.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Well then, boy, we’ll do this together now. You will wait and follow exactly what I say. These panties are your wife’s, so it will be like the two of you masturbating together. When you see her wearing these, you will imagine it is me, Jimmy. And since I want you to keep calm, we have to be sure you stay in your chair”.

Mistress Abigail attached my testicle leash to a ring in the floor just in front of my chair, while she sat at arm’s lengths in front of me. She was thus sure my cock couldn’t reach her. She pulled to the side her panties, and commenced masturbating slowly. She was delicately exploring her sex, as if to find its most sensitive areas. I stroked myself too, to mirror her, but she stopped and scolded me:

“I didn’t say you may start, Jimmy, so keep your hand away! This is just warming up.”

I swallowed hard and struggled to keep my hands to the sides.

She resumed her touching, relaxing and taking deep breaths. She was either looking at her pussy, or looking me in the eyes. Her pleasure was building up, and so was my frustration. She went one gear up, massaging her sex thoroughly with her palm, and slapping herself vigorously a couple of times. Then she addressed me once again:

“Ok, Jimmy, you may start stroking yourself, but don’t you dare cum unless I explicitly tell you to!”

“Thank you, Mistress”, I said with relief.

At first, the masturbation helped, easing the pressure in my pelvis for a few minutes. The previous two ejaculations made it more difficult to achieve the high point, but the show that Mistress Abigail was putting on was something no man could have resisted to. She was biting her lower lip and insistingly pinching her right nipple, pulling on it and caressing the whole breast. Her pelvis was moving in a dance-like circular motion, and her engorged labias couldn’t get enough of her fingers. She gently touched her clit with one finger, circling it, teasing it, pressing on it, rubbing it. That gave me a huge desire to feel it with my tongue and lips, to devour it and see Mistress pleased.

Soon enough, I was in trouble. I found myself struggling to slow down. My cock’s head was a deep purple, and its nerve endings were pushed to their limits. The slightest touch brought enormous quantities of pleasure, but still not enough…

“How are you holding there, Jimmy?”, Mistress asked as she slowed down the pace a bit, savoring her pleasure.

“Please, Mistress…”, was all I could say, hoping she would allow me a quick release.

“Nonsense, boy, I’m sure you can hold longer than that. Don’t cum yet, Jimmy!”

It was getting more and more difficult. To help me refrain, Mistress forced me to stop touching altogether:

“Jimmy, I want you to stop stroking.”

I did.

“That’s it, boy, frustrate yourself!”, she said with a smile, still fingering her glistening pussy.

Then she stopped too, saying:

“Well, if you can’t touch yourself, we’ll do it another way.”

She cuffed my hands behind me, but I was too strained to protest. I was just letting myself go, at the mercy of whatever she had in mind. I wanted to cum so badly that I feared I may disobey her if I expressed my will in any form. She pulled her armchair closer, placed her heels on my shoulders and her pussy only one inch away from my hungry member. I felt as tensed as a guitar chord. While she resumed her delicate masturbation, she was stroking me gently, leading to some more desperate “Please, Mistress”. She rubbed the head of my cock on the outside of her pussy and her upper thighs, teasing me with the lure of her beautiful sex that I was not allowed to enjoy. I knew it was as close as I would ever get to having her, and it felt wonderful. Mistress was talking softly to me:

“Don’t cum, yet, Jimmy! Enjoy yourself but hold it back, boy! Keep the cum inside yourself…Let those heavy testicles suffer for me, Jimmy!”

Whenever she felt I was getting too close, she would stop and slap my cock, to make the pleasure go down. After a while, she slapped me very hard and squeezed my balls thoroughly. She did it to prevent me from cumming at the sight of the orgasm she was preparing for, and it worked. Mistress Abigail’s pleasure came quickly and rushed through her like waves. She arched her beautiful body, moaning deeply with her eyes closed, and her warm thighs spasmed in delight for a long time. She appeared to experience a lot of intense and comforting pleasure, and she carried on touching her sweet pussy ever so gently for about a minute or two, to make a smooth transition to the aftermath chill. I was genuinely glad for Mistress’ satisfaction, but a selfish part of me wanted the same treatment.

When she landed back on Earth, she resumed her teasing talk:

“Oh, Jimmy, did you enjoy feeling me so close, boy?”

“Yes, Mistress”, I said in a strained voice.

“Did seeing me like that give you dirty thoughts, Jimmy?”

“Yes, Mistress”

“Would you have liked to get a little taste of how good my pussy feels, Jimmy boy?”

“Yes, Mistress”

“Oouuuh…but you didn’t get to cum yet, have you?”, she said trying to sound surprised. “I bet you’d like to feel that kind of sensations too, isn’t it Jimmy? Dirty boys like you always like that…”

“Please, Mistress.”

“I want you to do something for me first, Jimmy. Will you do it?”, she said in a girlish way.

I had no idea what it was, but I didn’t care anymore. I would have done anything that could bring me closer to relief.

“Yes, Mistress”

“Ohh, that’s great, Jimmy.”, she said in a joyful manner.

She produced a wine glass filled halfway, not with wine, but with what I assumed to be fresh male cum.

“It’s yours, Jimmy”, she reassured me. “I want you to consume it all, boy”.

She brought it to my lips, and I opened wide, terribly excited all of a sudden.

“Not like that, Jimmy”, she said in an upset tone. “Sip it properly!”

She fed it to me in small portions. It was cold, but it still had the pungent smell and taste.

“Thank you, Mistress”, I said when the last drops were gone.

“You’re welcomed, Jimmy”, she said smilingly.

Mistress put the glass away and kindly started to stroke me once more.

“Do you like this, Jimmy?”

“Yes, Mistress”

“Do you do this when you are alone too, boy?”

“Yes, Mistress”

“And you think about doing it when you see attractive women around, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress”. I felt guilty, but overly excited to admit that to another woman.

“You like looking at them, at their beautiful legs, at their cleavage and ass, don’t you, Jimmy?”

“Yes, Mistress”

“It makes you want to cum, Jimmy?”

“Please, Mistress”

“Boy, do you badly need to cum right now?”

“Please, Mistress”

“Jimmy, I will let you cum, but I want you to keep you eyes open and look at me while you expel your semen. Look at my breasts and my pussy, look me in the eye if it’s what pleases you. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress”, I said trying to put a grateful tone to my voice.

“Jimmy. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Will you say “please”?”

“Please, Mistress.”

I felt like crying at being made to beg so much for release, and that only added to the emotional charge of the scene. My legs were shaking with excitement, and I was craving it like crazy.

“Ok, Jimmy, you may start cumming now.”

I did it. It felt like a bubble bursting. My eyes roamed Mistress Abigail’s creamy body, and the tension came down in an unbelievably powerful shower of pleasure. I poured and poured, and Mistress kept on stimulating my cock and balls with both hands, insisting on the sensitive glans.

When I was done, she let me go and wiped her hands and thighs with a towel. I had soiled the pink pair of underwear during the process.

Mistress casually took off the pair and said in her authoritative voice, pointing to a silver washing basin in the corner:

“You are expected to wash by hand both pairs before you go. You will remain naked until you are done. Then you will ring the bell at the door and wait form me kneeling in front of it”.

I originally posted this story almost two years ago, but lost the other parts of the story when my computer crashed. I am reposting this part and will be posting the other parts of the story over the next few weeks as I finish retyping them. While I may post some fictional stories in the future, all of the events in this one and the other parts to follow are completely true. My wife hopes you enjoy a peek into my sexual life. It may not be for everyone, but it is the path that my wife has chosen for us. She instructed me to ask for your feedback and to ask in each part of the story for suggestions from you as to cruelties and humiliations that her sissy should be forced to endure in service to her and for her pleasure. She thanks you for your input.


My wife is a classy and refined southern lady, who happens to be extremely beautiful and sexy in a very polished, professional way. From the beginning of our relationship, she has been very adventurous sexually, which was a very happy surprise initially as she was, for all anyone else knew, a proper sorority girl, well bred and gracious. As a result, we have always had a lot of fun in bed and out. We also have developed a deep comfort level that allows us to be very open and honest with each other concerning our quirks and desires without fear of rejection or ridicule.

Early in our marriage, I confessed to her that I had always enjoyed wearing women’s panties, stockings, and clothing, going back to trying on my older sister’s clothes as a child and continuing through my teens into adulthood. I adore the feeling of wearing silky, feminine things. I also gradually revealed to her that I have a submissive side despite my success in a very competitive business environment. She indulged me reluctantly at first, letting me dress up from time to time. It started slowly with a few of her things and then she eventually bought me a few pairs of tights and other fun things. Those purchases led to very sexy high heeled shoes, nothing trashy, but rather something like she would wear. You cannot imagine my delight with her and with my situation.

As we progressed further down this path of indulgence of my feminine side, she became more comfortable dominating me and using me for her pleasure. Nothing cheesy like in bad novels or porno movies, but more subtle and sexy– making me dress up, making me confess my most humiliating desires, and using my mouth and body for her pussy’s satisfaction. She is now in total control, which is the ultimate bondage.

She has commanded me to tell you the latest story of my loss of control. So here I sit dressed in black panties, black cable knit tights, a control brief, black camisole shaper top, and a black knit dress, wearing trendy black booties with 4 inch heels, ready to share my humiliation.

Her latest cruelty is to take total control over my orgasms. I am not allowed to cum without her permission for weeks at a time, never knowing when, or even if, I will be allowed to cum again. There is no chastity device involved I am just supposed to control it no matter how she touches me, sucks me, or rides my cock to multiple orgasms in her rightful place on top. No masturbation. No orgasm, period. I am fairly good at controlling myself, but, after several days of stimulation by this beautiful woman while she takes her pleasure, the tension is deliciously unbearable. As I work during the day, I have the most perverse thoughts. She makes me shave my legs and body every morning to further my feminization under her control. When I get home I am made to immediately put panties on over my shaved legs, adding to my heightened state of sexual awareness. I am also made to fully dress in panties, stockings or tights, dresses, and heels, when it suits her mood. Imagine being able to intensely feel the presence of your cock and balls with every movement throughout the day.

One night, only about two weeks into one of her periods of orgasm control, she had me go down on her for an extended period of licking her delightful pussy and then climbed on me and impaling herself on my cock to take her pleasure in her favorite way. As she rocked on my cock, grinding her clit into my body, she shivered and moaned with her first powerful orgasm. I grabbed her hips and squeezed her tight with my hands, pushing her down onto my body as she came again with a gasp. I was doing fine, enjoying her pleasure and resisting the urge to cum. Then, pushing my arms above my head, she continued her assault on my cock, rocking back and forth in furious rhythm. As she was riding the wave of her fourth climax, I felt her orgasmic juices dripping down my balls. All of a sudden from deep inside me came that familiar urge. I fought to hold back the spasms as she was clearly past the point of no return, hoping I could make it until she stopped. As she finished her orgasm, I began to spasm, coaxed by her final strokes back and forth on my cock. I tried desperately to resist, but could not and semen dribbled out of me as she came to a stop, ruining my orgasm, removing any pleasure, but not my transgression.

Ashamed, I confessed my loss of control. She admonished me for my weakness and informed me that, since I could not control myself, I would have no stimulation, not so much as a touch or a breath until she decided I had paid for my failure. She instructed me to think about my failure and to come up with my own suggestions as to proper punishment for my loss of control. As I tried to go to sleep that night and into the next morning I began to imagine what might show her my regret and impress upon her how truly sorry I was for my failure.

In an attempt to satisfy her demand, I developed the following list of tasks to please her and show my contrition. In a further attempt to entertain her I wrote them in verse emailing her one at a time as she requested. My “grovel” read like this:

I love you my beautiful queen princess.
I want you to know how sorry I am for my failure to suppress.

This novice “girl” wants to apologize for her sudden male emission.
She is ashamed that she dribbled without your permission.

Your teasing and control had me in such exquisite tension.
Your wanton beauty rocking conquered all powers of retention.

For that I am very remorseful and if it is any consolation,
this accident had no pleasurable sensation.

My release was ruined by your merciful finish and my shame.
The erotic edge remains as if my failure never came,

but that does not excuse my failure to sustain.
I deserve every punishment, deeply sorry, in your control I remain.

I know and accept that my punishment will include some time without touch.
A girl can only hope it will not be too much.

In the verses that follow I will suggest paths of sissy penitence.
In an attempt to please you into lightening my sentence.

The first task is to show you how wonderful a long massage feels.
My sissy punishment is to do it “butt plugged” in an outfit, hose, and heels.

I am sorry that I disappointed you and failed you I fear.
For your pleasure I will keep my tongue in your rear.

As often and long as you want licking your ass, no stopping, I am clear.
I want to show you my contrition and serve you my dear.

This sissy needs to learn her pleasure to resist,
by taking your hand in my ass all the way to the wrist.

Corseted and stockinged like a true strumpet,
made to perform as your anal hand puppet.

Perhaps some prideful dignity could be removed by a full bag enema detox.
You laugh as I struggle to take it all in my pumps and knee sox.

Or maybe a dance fully dressed and made up for ballet.
Stretched and rehearsed to dance any male pride away.

I will bring you your Magic Wand and Trigasm.
And suck on your toes,

while you enjoy every spasm.
Your humiliated sissy in panties, tights, and stilettos.

This girl’s shame is great for having failed,
for your entertainment I should be dressed and impaled.

On objects selected by you to be seen,
I am sure you will test this sissy size queen.

Maybe you just need to get straight down to it,
right to the real culprit and punish my clit.

Strapped tightly to the spreader bar.
Black stockinged high heeled legs stretched apart very far,
you torture my parts while I beg you to stop.

When I arrived home from work that day, my wife was still disappointed in my weakness, but she said she liked the thought and effort. She said that, after one week of punishment by total denial, we could begin working through the list to complete my sentence.

So in the next part of the story you will see my deliciously cruel wife uses these tasks to humiliate me.

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.


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.


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.


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.

‘Hey, Taffy, have you heard about the new M.O?’

‘Yes, it’s a Captain Edwards isn’t it? I read it in battalion orders.’

‘Yes, but did you see the first name?’

‘Nope, as far as you and me are concerned, Smudge, officers don’t have first names except “Sir.” But I seem to remember the initial is “J.” Probably John or James I suppose. Anyway, what of it?’

‘What if I told you it’s not John or James but Janice. Captain Janice Edwards.’

‘Friggin ‘ell. You don’t mean to tell me the new M.O. is a woman. Bugger me, it’ll be a bit of a laugh at the next drop ‘em an’ cough! Ha, ha.’

‘Yep and not only that but she’s brought her own medical orderly. Only a Corporal Pauline flippin’ Hardwick. So the whole freakin medical centre is run by women. Chuff me.’

‘Well Smudge, me old mate. I’m about to put it to the test. I’ve got a lousy night exercise coming up and I’m going to go sick. I shouldn’t have any trouble convincing a bird I’m at death’s door and too bad to take part in a night manoeuvre on a cold November night.’

So it was that Private Dai (Taffy) Jones reported on sick parade at the battalion medical centre.

‘Now, Private, why are you reporting sick?’ enquired Corporal Pauline Hardwick.

‘Well love, I….’

‘Stand to attention Private,’ snapped Corporal Hardwick. ‘Heels together, head up, chest out, back straight. It is not “Love,” you address me as “Corporal.” Understood?’

Private Taffy Jones looked down at this young slip of a girl. She was probably about 20 years old and at least five years his junior. She wore neatly pressed combat trousers, highly polished boots and a khaki shirt with her corporal’s chevrons on the right sleeve. She was about five feet tall and here she was ordering 6 feet tall Taffy Jones about as if he were a sprog. Despite his hurt feelings he snapped to attention.

‘That’s better. Ok stand at ease. Now tell me; why have you reported sick?’

Private Jones stood at ease and explained to the pretty medical orderly that he was having dizzy spells and a pain in his lower back. Both totally untrue, but Dai Jones thought the symptoms might be hard to disprove and serious enough to get him out of the night exercise.

Corporal Hardwick looked at the patient, thinking that he looked quite well to her, never the less he had reported sick and it was her duty to take initial routine tests and pass him on to Captain Edwards, the Medical Officer. She took his temperature and blood pressure and made a note on the referral sheet.

‘Right, Private Jones, go behind that screen, strip down to your underpants and then I will weigh you and measure your height.’

Private Jones was surprised at the thoroughness of the examination, but he was fairly confident that he would be able to pull the wool over the eyes of this new medic team. He undressed as ordered and when stripped to his underpants he looked down with satisfaction at the bulge in the front of his pants. He had a big cock and he knew it. He adjusted the position of his cock in his underpants ensuring the most impressive outline was on display.

You never know, he thought, there’s a good chance that this cute medical orderly might be so taken with the size of his dick that she would make sure he got his sick note and he might even get inside her knickers later on.

Private Jones swaggered out from behind the screen and stood in front of Corporal Hardwick. If she was impressed with the bulge in Dai Jones’ Calvin Klein pants, she did not show it as she weighed him and took a note of his height. Reaching up to top of the rule to note down his height she accidentally brushed her breast against Private Jones’ bare arm. Private Jones considered it a good sign. Continuing with her duties Corporal Hardwick noted down the figures on her sheet then said she would escort him to the M.O. She led him down a short corridor and tapped on a door which bore a sign saying ‘Captain J. Edwards Battalion Medical Officer.’

‘Come,’ called a female voice from behind the door. Corporal Hardwick opened the door and ordered Private Jones to enter. For the first time Taffy Jones saw Captain Edwards. She was a pretty, dark haired woman in her late twenties. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a crisp white coat over her khaki uniform. She turned her brown eyes in the direction of Private Jones, whilst holding her hand out for Corporal Hardwick’s referral sheet. Captain Edwards read the notes carefully and then looked back at Private Jones.

‘So how long have you had this problem, Private?’ enquired the MO.

‘Oh it comes and goes ma’am,’ replied Private Jones vaguely.

‘Mmm, I think I had better give you a thorough examination.’

‘Major Spocket, the old MO, before you came ma’am, he just used to put me on light duties for a few days. That usually sorted it out.’

Captain Edwards and Corporal Hardwick exchanged glances.

‘Oh no,’ said the new MO. We can’t just leave it at that. It could be something serious. I would never forgive myself.’

Captain Edwards took her stethoscope and sounded Private Jones’ chest and back. She asked him to say ‘Aaagh,’ as she peered down his throat. She looked into his ears and carried out a whole range of tests on his upper body.

‘Any problems with the water works?’

‘No ma’m.’

Captain Edwards pulled on a pair of latex gloves then pulled the elastic of Private Jones’ Calvin Kleins’ forward and reached down inside his pants. Looking him straight in the eyes she said ‘I’m sorry Private, you will have to slip these off. I can’t examine you with these on, they are too tight.’

Slightly embarrassed, Private Jones slipped his underpants down and stepped out of them. Corporal Hardwick caught her breath as she saw his large, penis dangling over his big balls. Captain Edwards, the consummate professional, portrayed no reaction as she cupped her hand under his testicles. ‘Turn your head to the right and cough,’ she ordered. She shifted her hand a little. ‘Now to the left and cough.’ Private Jones duly coughed and then reached down to put his pants back on.

‘No, leave them private. I haven’t finished yet. Now I want you to stand feet together and hold your arms straight out in front. Look straight ahead. Tell me if you feel dizzy.’ Private Jones did as he requested, feeling a little self-conscious at being nude in front of these two confident women who did not appear even slightly abashed at his nudity.

Evidently satisfied with this part of the examination, Captain Edwards then asked him to stand on one leg and hold the position. Again Private Jones managed this without wavering too much.

‘Very good Private, now close your eyes tightly and see if you can hold the position.’ Once his eyes were closed Captain Edwards and Corporal Hardwick exchanged glances. ‘Malingerer?’ queried Corporal Hardwick, mouthing the word silently. Captain Hardwick nodded and smiled knowingly.

‘Hold the position Private,’ ordered Corporal Hardwick. Captain Edwards pointed at Private Jones prodigious penis and gave Corporal Hardwick a ‘thumbs-up’ sign. Corporal Hardwick responded by making a movement with her closed fist as if she were masturbating a large cock. Both women grinned at each other.

‘Now Private, open your eyes and look straight ahead. Get onto your toes and crouch right down into a squat position. Now spring up as quickly as you can.’ Private Jones sprang up and his penis flicked up and slapped down onto his heavy ball sac.

‘Very good Private,’ said Captain Edwards, hardly able to stop herself smiling. ‘Now repeat that three times. Corporal Hardwick, standing to one side where Private Jones could not see her, watched enthralled as Dai Jones’ cock slapped up and down, hitting his belly and then slapping down onto his big balls.

‘Well Private Jones, this is a most difficult case to diagnose. So far I have been unable to identify any problems. There is just one more test I need to carry out. I would like you to stand legs apart then bend over to touch your toes. This may feel a little strange at first, but I am going to carry out an internal examination.’

Private Jones took up the position as ordered.

‘Corporal Hardwick, you know what to do.’

‘Yes ma’am,’ replied the corporal and shone a bright light onto Private Jones’ out-thrust bottom as Captain Edwards pulled apart his buttocks exposing his pink anus. Captain Edwards coated her fingers in lubricant and began to insert two fingers into his anus, working them in past the tight sphincter, making Private Jones draw in his breath.

‘It may feel a little odd, but it won’t hurt, so just relax and it will be much easier.’ The two women looked at each other and smiled, as Captain Edwards’ fingers located Dai Jones prostate gland and began to massage it. Corporal Hardwick noticed that Dai Jones heavy cock began to stir and was soon semi erect.

Taffy Jones found it strange having his virgin bum invaded in this way, but quite erotic. He thought how good it would be to give this young officer a good shagging. Of course that would not be on. He knew an officer would not lower herself to fuck a mere private soldier. No matter how large a cock he might have. On the other hand, the corporal could be a different matter. He could well chat her up and get his leg over. He felt his cock begin to respond as he savoured the thought of slipping the young corporal a nice length of hard prick. Within a few minutes a drop of seminal fluid was dribbling out of his penis. Soon Captain Edwards nodded to Corporal Hardwick, who immediately took hold of Private Jones’ penis just behind the swollen head and eased his foreskin back. She squeezed the cock gently between finger and thumb as Captain Edwards massaged the prostate gland. She knew the right moment had arrived as Private Jones began to breathe more heavily, his penis hardening in Corporal Hardwick’s fingers. With one final movement of her finger-tips Captain Edwards withdrew her fingers from Dai’s virgin arse and at the same moment Corporal Hardwick removed her fingers from his cock.

Private Jones groaned as his semi-erect penis jerked and a stream of sperm dribbled out of his penis, making a pool on the tiled floor. He stood up embarrassed as his penis dribbled the contents of his testicles onto the floor. He had been made to cum, but without the pleasure of a proper orgasm. Captain Edwards and Corporal Hardwick and milked the young soldier of his sperm, while ruining his orgasm and denying him the pleasure of a proper cum.

‘I think you will live a bit longer yet.’ Said Captain Edwards. ‘You can dress now.’ She turned away in a detached way and disposed of the latex gloves in a waste bin.

Private Jones pulled on his underpants and moved to the door.

‘Wait one moment soldier,’ said Corporal Hardwick. Handing him a wad of tissues she said ‘You can clean your mess up,’ indicating the pool of sperm on the floor.

‘Do I get a sick note?’ asked Dai as he mopped up his sperm

‘No, but you can take two of these daily until you feel better,’ said Captain Edwards as she handed Private Jones a pack of vitamin capsules,

A dejected Private Dai (Taffy) Jones left the medical centre gloomily contemplating the upcoming night exercise. ‘Fuck, fuck fuck!’ he muttered.

June 2018
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