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Dream Date With a Domme Part Two
22.Contact
How life can change in just a few days. No, not even days. Just a few moments. The time it took to pick up a phone, make the decision to call the number, make the request and have it accepted.
A feeling of excitement not experienced since days at school, sneaking out of the house and finding the phone box at the top of the park. Close to school, filthy old thing it was, in the days when they used to hang phone books in them. They were always shredded so had to get the phone number from home first and then try and call from the box, fingers nervously clicking the change in my pocket.
Always hoping she, whoever she was, would pick up the phone and it not be the mother, or worse, the father. That constricted feeling when the voice refused to escape from the mouth without that nervousness riding on the words like a carrier wave of insecurity. The odd occasion when she would answer, there was the expectation of rejection, the pitying undercurrent as if to say, ’why on earth would I go out with you?’
But this time there was no rejection; a tone of voice that had the same effect in making me feel small, inadequate, yes, but not rejection.
I was still foolish enough to believe that i was in control. The decision was mine and i would lay down the ground rules and would operate within them.
Oh how wrong. How naive i was. How could i have been so stupid?
23. Normality
‘Hey, mate, where were you all day yesterday? Franklin was pissed off with you, sunshine.’ i stop as the guy speaks as he comes round the corner from the canteen.
Jerry’s a good guy, no axe to grind, just a decent bloke. Not really a friend but more than a colleague. We’d been out for a pint or two occasionally, but talk was always about work, or who was fit in the office. The usual banal stuff that goes on between thousands of office workers in boring jobs all over the country.
‘i figured he would be, but when stuff like that crops up, you just have to get on with it and i never thought to call him and make my excuses. Well actually i did think of it but didn’t want the argument and the justification? You know he can be such a prick sometimes.’
‘Any way, what’s with the fuckin’ tie, man? It’ll take more than that to get back into his good books.’
‘Oh I have a meeting later with clients and thought I’d better make an effort,’ i lied, unconvincingly.
Thought he would accept that better than the real reason for the tie. The fact that i have a sold stainless-steel collar round my neck from which hangs a dog-tag with the single word ‘Worm’ engraved upon it.
‘Well I hope you remembered about squash tonight. Grudge match with those tossers from accounts. We need you pal, you’re our shoe-in match win that might put us at the top of the league’
‘Well, Jerry, i’m not sure i can make it, i have....’
He was gone already, the rhetorical question hanging in the air. How do i get out of a squash match? I am the mainstay of the technical department team. Never miss a match, very rarely lose one. Moments of praise and idolatry revelled in as they never occur elsewhere.
‘Stop teasing, you’ll be there.’ Jerry shouts, already half way down the corridor, ‘and lose the noose, goose!’
24. Hotel
i had lain on the bed in the hotel room for what seemed like an age. Clad in high-heeled ankle boots, fastened round the ankles with combination padlocks, legs emerging from them sheathed in pink rubber stockings, now somewhat worse for wear, ripped in places, bubbled where they had been grabbed.
The strap around my waist was digging into my hips, as it was so tight, holding whatever it was that was implanted in my backside. Another padlock, also with a combination, fastened it shut. Not a particularly heavy one, easily cut with a pair of cutters from B&Q, but not the sort of thing one keeps in a hotel room, just in case one gets dumped back there after a date that went wrong.
My wrists were fastened together by cuffs attached by a short chain, again secured with similar locks.
i had my nipples pierced years ago. i was a little embarrassed at the time, thought it was a bit of a weird thing to do, but just had a hankering to do it, so went for it one day. Gradually stretched them to a gauge that would not look stupid. They get comments from time to time and polarise opinion somewhat, but hey? They used to have reasonably discrete studs in them but i look down now to see the thickrings they have been replaced with. Apparently seamless, no ball to close them, they are locked shut and i have no idea how they would be opened.
The collar was quite tight, solid, sitting flush to my neck when upright, but uncomfortable when laid down, particularly on one’s side. The brass tag tinkling against it.
i had been dumped there by Curtis, Mistress’s driver/chauffeur/whatever, two nights ago. Late. The room was as i had left it when he had picked me up earlier in the evening, door slightly ajar, my ‘normal’ clothes cast aside on the bed as i had donned the outrageous contents of the box that had been delivered shortly beforehand. As per instructions.
His last comment before he left had been to make sure i answered the phone when it rang or the maid might get a shock in the morning.
When the phone did eventually ring it was gone 7 am. I had slept fitfully, my mind re-enacting the evening, the bad and, if i’m honest, the not so bad, though quite who i would admit that to, i have no idea.
‘Wrists, 781.’ Click.
The sum total of the phone call. Woke me and barely got chance to say ‘hello’ let alone anything else.
Shit, the combination to the locks. Had the presence of mind to scribble the number down on the hotel pad with the cheap pen.
I fumbled with the first lock and eventually the hasp released and i breathed a sigh of relief as the chain fell away and my wrists were apart for the first time all night.
i took a quick peak at the clock and saw the time, shit, i’m late. Well who cares, i can’t go to work like this. i then had the presence of mind to put the ‘Do not Disturb’ sign on the outside door knob.
That’s the maid sorted then, thank God.
Feeling my hair with my newly-freed hands, i realised what a mess i would have looked. I need a shower, big time, i stink!
Briing, Briing.
I answer the phone again.
‘Ankles, 524’. Click.
Within seconds i had divested myself of locks, boots and stockings. My leg hair was plastered to my skin with sweat, They had been airless for almost 12 hours now.
‘Belt, 112.’ Click
Five minutes later, same voice, female, very stern.
Belt off but the metal hook leading down my arse-crack was not. If it was as big as the one that M had pulled out the night before it was going to take some removing.
The ignominy of sitting on a hotel lavatory pulling a steel ball on a hook out of one’s arse will live with me for some time. It actually came out fairly quickly, closely followed by all kinds of unmentionable noises and foulness.
Within seconds i was in the shower washing their cum out of my hair and off my face. I spent a long while in that shower, the water a little too hot for comfort. Isn’t that what they say rape victims do when they get chance, trying to wash away the guilt and the memory?
I was just trying to wash away the stench.
Now, what to do with this fucking contraption hanging between my legs.
25. Squash
i manage to get through the remainder of the day without any comments about the tie, but then i do tend to eschew too much fraternisation with the gang of workers in the office. Most of them are a generation younger than me anyway and while i try to engage in their conversations, there is only so much one can identify with. Tales of parties and clubs and hip-hop gigs leave me cold i’m afraid. They probably just think i am a boring old fart.
The first time i played squash for the department was a water-shed, when they saw that i was pretty good i was invited to the post-match social drinks. No big deal, except that where i would normally go off back to the hotel and shower, it meant i had to shower at the club. I’ve always hated communal showers, hang-ups from school days i guess, never been keen to get naked in front of a group of blokes, no matter who they were.
One of them spotted my piercings and brought it up in the bar, Some shit about ‘dark horse’ and ‘the quiet ones are always the ones to watch’. i just smiled and drank my Old Crafty Hen.
Since then there have been many showers and many drinks and a few anecdotes have been traded, just to let them know that us ‘wrinklies’ have lived and actually continue to do so.
Just before five pm, i bump into Jerry again.
‘See you at the club at six-thirty. We’re off to the Bears for a jar or two after.’ Not a question, a statement.
‘Jerry. About tonight...i really don’t think....’
‘Later, dude, we need that forehand!’ Jerry disappears into the stairwell and is gone.
Fuck. That’s the last thing i need. My mind whirrs as i try and figure out how i’m going to hide these shower curtain rings. Then it occurs to me that they are the least of my worries. The ‘contraption’ on my cock and balls and the fact that my arse and back are still welted and striped should be of more concern.
i walk back to the hotel and figure a plan out of sorts. I’ll ‘forget’ my towel and my ordinary clothes and then make the excuse that i will go back to the hotel to change and will take a shower there. That should work.
Of course when i do get back to the hotel and begin to change, i realise this is a badly flawed plan. As soon as i take off my tie there is the collar. A rounded metal band, about the thickness of a pencil, shaped to sit in the vee of the neck. It has a joint at the back, which i can barely discern as it’s pretty tight so hard to see. I’ve pulled it, tried to twist it, everything i can think of, but it will not come apart and is too big to cut off with bolt cutters. A saw would work i guess but it’s close to the skin so that would be an interesting operation to say the least.
Then there is the disk.
Also made of steel, the words ‘worm’ deeply engraved on the front side. It was only late on the previous day that i realised it had ‘Property of Mistress Madelaine’ written on the back in ornate script. Did that mean the disk? Or me?
As i strip off my shirt and pants, i see the nipple rings. They must be at least an inch across and are even slightly thicker than my own ones and they were 6mm and seemed plenty large enough. They are bloody sore too, probably due to the extra stretch.
But the main concern is hanging between my thighs. The chastity device that she spoke of as being a custom made article, with a concealed locking mechanism, hangs weightily from my balls. The head of my old man presumably still fastened to the very end of it internally. There is no way of knowing for sure as the whole thing is basically solid so the only clue is a continual sharp pull on my bell end. New piercings need cleaning and i have had this thing on for two days now.
I manage to hide the thing in a jock strap, though it’s much more uncomfortable around the scrotum that way, but i have to keep it from swinging about in my shorts.
In a moment of inspiration, i realise that a nylon underlayer will cover most of the collar and i decide i am good to go. Grabbing my racquet bag, i am just about out of the door when the phone rings.
26. Disobedience
‘Good evening, worm. How is my cock?’
Ifi’d known it was going to be her i would have ignored it.
‘You will need to remove the device tonight and clean yourself or my cock will be spoiled.’ It is the Mistress for sure.
‘Mistress, i am just...’
‘Shut up and listen,’ she interjects, voice calm and even, no hint of annoyance, just very matter of fact. Impossible to argue with.
‘You will give me your mobile phone number, after which you will be texted instructions as to how to remove the device. You will follow those instructions, clean my cock and bathe the piercing in salt water for 30 minutes, then you shall be texted instructions as to how to refit the device which you will follow to the letter.’
‘But Mis....’
‘If you interrupt me again i will have someone round to remove it for you and trust me, it will come off with the organ still inside the device...if you get my meaning. The number!’ This time the inflection in her voice was emphatic.
Having reeled off the phone number, the line goes dead.
i need to be off pretty quick if i’m going to make the match on time, but there is no text forthcoming. After perhaps twenty minutes, the phone buzzes and the text arrives.
‘Feel around the underside of the tube where it meets the ring, there are five recessed buttons. Press these in the following order from left to right as you look down at them. The ring will then detach from the tube and it will be possible to put a finger in the lower side of the tube. Therein a small raised button will release the tube from the piercing in the head of the penis. Left. Right Middle, Middle. Left middle, Right.’
Nothing else.
My heart skips as i see a release. Quickly i remove my shorts and the jock and fumble about under the tube as instructed, the whole thing is tight, my balls protruding between the thick ring and the tube, Sure enough i feel the recesses, but they are too small for my fingers. i find a pen and use it to press them in the correct order. There is a click and the tube detaches, though the ring remains around my balls as it has not opened, nor does it appear to be hinged in any way.
Only now do i notice how well crafted it is, very smooth, ovalled and at least a couple of centimetres thick. I slip my pinkie in the lower end of the tube and wince as it pulls on my bell end. There i feel the small knub and after a little fumbling find that it slides away from the end. As it does i feel my cock retract and it is loose. Quickly pulling the tube away and curling my nose slightly at the pungent aroma, i see my pierced cock head for the first time. It is a thick ring, almost as thick as those in my nipples but of a much smaller diameter, actually fairly discrete, it will fit inside my foreskin when i am flaccid. i realise that worryingly i am slightly engorged. It must have been like this most of the day then.
Surprisingly there has been little pain, only when taking a leak have i felt anything really, the pee exiting from the drain hole in the end of the tube.
i do need to clean it up though and i give the piercing a quick rinse in some warm salt water, noticing there is no visible join in this one either. How do they make these things?
It very soon becomes apparent that the ring around my balls is going nowhere. It is just as cunningly designed as to appear as seamless as the others but is too small to pull my testes through. I leave it in place, pull on the jock and my shorts and i’m out of the door, clutching my mobile in one hand.
Now i can play squash in a bit more comfort and see what the hell i can do with all this when i get back.
27. Instructions
‘Great match, mate.’ Jerry was always enthusiastic. ‘I really think we’d be shafted without you in the team.’ We were just on our way towards the changing room and I had to get rid of him somehow.
‘I’m sure you’d be fine. Look, Jerry, I need to dash, I have something on that I need to attend to. Ha, if only he knew what I had on; the remnants of the chastity device.
‘Catch you in the morning, yeah?’ my voice lacking conviction, i could actually use a pint right now.
‘Hey, man, you need to come to the pub, we all owe you a drink after winning the crucial rubber.’ Jerry was insistent.
‘No, really I’d love to but I have to dash, I’ll grab a shower at the hotel and we can do beer another night, ok?’
‘Ok, dude, hope you’re not going home on the bus though. You stink. See ya tomorrow, champ.’
He’s right, i am a bit less than fresh, getting too old for this squash lark, time i took up tennis. Doubles, at that.
i leave the club and start to walk towards the bus stop and then remember my phone. ‘Fuck’
The text message light on it is insistent, pulsing its impatience.
i open the messages folder. Six messages. SIX!
i barely dare to open them, but i stop on a secluded corner under a street light, its sodium-coloured glow somewhat eerie in the developing mist.
Message one was received just after ihad left for the squash club.
‘massage the cock to semi-erectness, lube it and keep it that way until the next message.’
Message two. Sent five minutes later.
‘press the release knob inside the tube twice, this will reset it, put cock inside to the very end of the tube, then click knob again.
Message three. Two minutes afterwards. Nothing i can’t do until i get home. My head is back in submission mode again, in a fluster actually.
‘you are v quiet worm, I trust you did not trap your foreskin. Check the tube is now fastened by the PA. if not, repeat the last instructions. Txt when it is complete.’
Oh shit.
‘Txt when it is complete.’
Five words that spell a problem. Maybe she’ll believe my battery was dead or i couldn’t get a signal or something.
Message four.
‘you either have your hands full or you are ignoring me. It better not be the latter.’
Message five. Twenty minutes after number four. Still almost two hours ago.
‘you will slot the tube together with the ring, it will lock and the combination will have changed, only I know the release code sequence. Answer immediately, this operation takes seconds. Don’t insult my intelligence with phony excuses’
i almost giggle at the pun, unintended thoughi’m sure it was. i somehow doubt she is in the mood for humour.
Message six. One minute passed between her sending five and six.
‘worm, you are in deep shit!’
28. Consequences
What to do, text now and lie or text when i get home and lie. It will take just a few minutes to get home on the bus but it could be half an hour waiting for it. i break into a run, squash or no, my legs are fuelled and i set off at a reasonable pace, mind whirring, the exercise hopefully clearing my head from its panicked state.
i take a short cut, hurdle a fence, dash across an area of waste-ground. A brown-field development opportunity in real estate-speak. It ‘ll match my underwear, i think.
Join a path, through a small park, a few ne’er do wells hanging around watching me running. One’s on the phone, talking quickly, they all have hoodies pulled deep over their heads.
What if he’s…? No time for a paranoia attack, just keep moving. Duck down a street, slightly longer route, but will give the hoods the slip just in case.
Maybe five more minutes and the back of the hotel will be in sight. Should i go in the garage or the main entrance? Safer in the lobby i reckon but the garage is at the back and will be quicker to get into. Then straight up in the lift. A plan is forming. If i take a photo of myself locked back up, i can forge a time-stamp on it and then make up a no signal excuse or blame it on Vodafone or something. It will take minutes, get the device on and….
i turn the last corner at full speed, adrenaline coursing through my body, heart racing. As i look across the road to check the traffic i see a shiny black Range Rover parked fifty yards up the road.
No it can’t be, there are hundreds of black Rangies in London. i am getting paranoid, made my mind up though, definitely the lob…
‘Fucking hell!’ I scream aloud, as a huge black geezer steps out from the shadows right in my path.
‘In a hurry, worm?’
Shadow emerges from the shadows.
A huge arm and shoulder stop me in my tracks and i very nearly do shit myself this time.
‘You need to slow up, you’ll be damaging Mistress’s body?
Desperately trying to recover my composure, i step back from Curtis. He looks bigger than ever tonight, he is wearing a smart dark suit again, white shirt, dickie. Not a dinner suit, more a bouncer’s uniform.
‘You have about ten minutes to get in that hotel, make sure you have followed your instructions to the letter or I shall have to follow my instructions.’ Curtis steps forward and almost whispers the rest. ‘Your instructions would be the easier on you, I believe.’
‘Now move it!’
i’m gone. Take the garage, it’s quicker and i’m rumbled now anyway. In the lift to floor four. Huge sigh of relief as no gorilla-sized driver stops the door from closing.
Into the room, look for the tube on the bed, but it has gone. ‘Fuck.’
Bathroom, it’s in there by the wash-basin. i scrabble for my phone but i reckon i can remember the instructions anyway. Two clicks of the knob, stick it in, then one more.
i rip my trackie-bottoms off and the shorts and Calvin’s. The thick ring is still round my, now sweaty, balls. Fumbling a little i thrust my cock into the tube, making sure the skin is pulled back from the ring, poke my finger in it and press the knob twice. A pause, then once more. i barely feel the hidden mechanism engage but my cock head is fast alright as i feel the weight of the tube pull on the piercing.
In a second i mate the tube and the ring and feel the latch click and once more i am locked up tight.
Now for the plan, i quickly grab my phone, take a rushed picture but it is enough in focus to use and then boot up my Mac, still naked from the waist down.
A few minutes in photo-shop and i have a passable date and time stamp in orange future-font. Transfer it back to the phone and send it with a message in reply to Mistress’s message five. Replying to six would have been a huge mistake.
Hit ‘send’ and it’s done.
i wait for what seems like an age. Eventually i go in the bathroom and wash, can’t afford to be in the shower and miss another message.
After towelling myself dry i go back and sit on the bed just as the phone vibrates and plays its message alert.
‘you almost tried my patience to the limit, worm. make sure you have network coverage where you are in future. Mr Curtis will be on his way home shortly and you may go to sleep’
Thank God. She bought it. Relief drains what little energy is left in my body and i slump onto the duvet, head facing the curtains. Consequently i never see ‘Shadow’ enter through the neglectfully unlocked door. Nor do i hear his footfalls as he crosses the space to the bed.
‘Too late, sucker,’ he mutters.
i turn and attempt to get up but he has me in a head lock in seconds and slowly squeezes my neck until i pass into unconsciousness.
i don’t get the opportunity to read the text that arrives just at that moment.
‘you will also be on your way homein Mr Curtis’s car and one way or another you WILL also be asleep. Sweet dreams, worm.’
29. Return
i wake as i am deposited, none too gently, on a cold floor and i hear a door close and lock.
i try to take stock of my predicament. Pretty sure i know where i am, in the basement with the running machine, where i spent some of the other evening. Needless to say i cannot see, i am hooded in leather. Heavy duty leather too. It is tight. Mouth filled with a ball, no doubt strapped round my neck which is stiff and immovable. Posture collar then.
Wrists are tightly fastened, as are my ankles, i am on my front and my legs are drawn back to the wrists. Hogtied, like an animal. Difficult to decide what else is going on, but i am naked as far as i can tell.
I hear the door open, hearing somewhat muffled by the hood.
‘Well, worm, welcome back. I didn’t expect to see you so soon. As such I am somewhat unprepared. As I am alone you will have to remain bound and I have no intention of making you comfortable seeing as you have lied to me this evening and failed the simplest of instructions.
i feel a dig in my ribs as her shoe, or boot makes firm contact with my side.
‘Let’s get one thing clear, worm. This is not about you, it wasn’t from the moment you accepted the invitation to my house. I have no need of contracts and safe words and all that play-acting baloney you may be used to from those other bitches. I am the real deal.’
‘The collar around your neck will have to do until I mark you more permanently but be assured you now belong to me. I am sure you have fantasised about such a thing in your past life. Be sure that you will never have imagined the reality. Your dream date was literally that, just a dream. You are now in reality and it never pans out the way you imagine.’
‘I will remove the gag now, and you will make no noise. I do not want any choking going on, it would be such a waste and somewhat inconvenient disposing of your body.’
‘Oh and incidentally, if you want to try and be smart and cover your disobedience, remember to forge the correct time. The time on the photo answered a text that hadn’t even been sent yet and showed a lack of attention to detail which I will not tolerate.’
Oof.Her boot toe retracts and thuds back into my ribs. She quickly removes the ball from my mouth and i cough and splutter as the saliva dribbles out of my mouth.
‘Now sleep, or not , I really don’t care.’
With that the door slams closed and i am alone.
And in deep shit.
30. Errand
‘Curtis, I have an errand for you. Please deliver this envelope to the worm’s workplace. It was good thinking of you to clear out its room, it won’t be requiring it for a while. The business cards were a particular blessing and the computer will no doubt reveal a few hidden secrets when I have it unlocked.’
It is morning and Mistress is sipping tea in the kitchen from a china cup. Despite the hour she is already dressed. Curtis takes in the floor length, black satin gown, cinched with a corset at the waist, emphasising her ample cleavage and full hips. Her raven-black hair is up, swept back off the face, which is made up fairly heavily, though applied with a masterful technique.
‘Of course, Mistress Madelaine. Any further instructions?
‘Just make sure the envelope is delivered to its work department, not its boss. Ask for a colleague to accept it.’
‘Very well. Consider it done.’ Curtis turns to leave but Madelaine stops him.
‘Curtis? It has been a while since you were paid. Return after you have completed the task and you shall be remunerated in full.’
‘Mistress, it has been a while and I shall savour the payment, thank you.’
Curtis leaves the room and moments later a spatter of gravel announces his departure.
31. Disclosure
Jerry’s phone rings, as it does hundreds of times a day, but not usually with the distinct ring that announces that reception is calling.
‘Yeah, Jerry speaking.’ No point loading up with the full company approved patter.
‘Mr McGill, I have an envelope that has just been delivered. The gentleman wished it to be delivered to your department. Would you accept it? It’s a little irregular.’
‘What, you mean it’s a funny shape?’
The stuck-up bitch on reception was renowned for having zero sense of humour and treating those in sales with a glower or worse, utter indifference, whenever they passed through the lobby.
‘No Mr McGill, I mean it is not the correct way to accept mail in this building.’ Sure enough, he was wasting his time with his wit.
‘Who’s it from?’
‘He wouldn’t say, just that it was from a member of your department’
‘Ok, gorgeous, I’ll be down in a sec. Have that smile ready for me when I arrive.’
Sarcasm was his preferred mode of speech. Whichever idiot said it was the lowest form of wit was, well, an idiot.
‘Mr McGill will accept the letter, if you would care to take a seat over there?’ Gabrielle, gestures to the seating by the window.
‘No, I must be going I have an appointment this afternoon and I have no intention of missing it.’
‘Oh, but Sir, I would prefer if you wait and ensure the letter is delivered,’ the receptionist can think of no other excuse to delay this fabulous specimen of manhood any longer. He is built like an athlete, slim hips, triangular back and shoulders, an easy gait and charisma oozing from his every pore. Her stocking-clad legs cross involuntarily, briefly allowing Curtis a glimpse of garter belt and white thigh.
‘Any other day and you would have my undivided attention, but today I cannot. Perhaps I could buy you a drink to reward your kindness?’
With a smile and a hint of a wink, he is gone, without waiting for the affirmative answer he always receives.
‘But, I didn’t catch your name…’
He is gone, mere moments before Jerry arrives.
‘So where’s the letter? You are looking particularly hot today, Gabby.’
‘It’s here,’ she almost throws the letter at him, ‘you know full well I hate being called Gabby and I am actually quite cold, sitting beneath this a/c.’ She cannot prevent the look of disappointment after feasting her eyes on her visitor only to be left with the geek from sales.
‘Fucking frigid, more like,’ Jerry mutters under his beneath as he takes the envelope from the desk top.
Not being able to resist a glance at her breasts to check exactly how cold she is, he wheels round and heads off to the elevators, already ripping open the envelope.
‘Holy, fucking shit!’
The envelope contains a postcard-sized photograph, printed on high- quality photo paper along with a note written on hotel notepaper.
The image is of a fairly well kept, middle-aged man spread-eagled naked on a wooden cross, a leather bag on his head, tight collar fastened round his neck.
His penis is fastened to a block of wood with what looks like a 4 inch nail through its head. By the side of the man is a tanned, slight but muscular-looking younger male with somewhat feminine shoulder length blonde hair, holding the impaled penis in one hand and making an obscene gesture with his mouth and tongue.
‘What the fuck is this?’ Jerry stops dead in his tracks.
‘What is it?’ Suddenly Gabrielle is Miss Fascinated of Finchley.
‘Take a look at this shit?’
He proffers her the photo as he unfolds the note.
‘Sorry, mate, can’t make it to work today, i’m a little tied up,’ it reads.
‘Who the hell is that?’ Gabrielle’s guard is down and her curiosity is surprisingly piqued.
‘Oh I have no idea. Must be a prank. Just some internet picture.’
Snatching the photograph back from the receptionist he walks slowly back to the elevator, almost in a daze.
There is a website URL watermarked into the photograph, with a copyright symbol. The hotel paper would have been a clue too, but for him, the give-away is the nipples. How many middle-aged, fit-looking guys can there be with their nipples pierced like that.
‘Dark horse? Buddy you’re the star of a fuckin’ freak show.’
32. Mr Curtis.
Curtis ambles back to the Range Rover with more than a little swagger in his step. These white chicks just couldn’t get enough of him, in fact it wasn’t just the white ones. Only the Orientals seemed oblivious to his charms, too much man for such small women was his way of explaining it.
A parking attendant begins to home in on the car, seeing Curtis returning to it and is about to approach and begin the usual lecture and probable fine, but stops when Curtis reaches inside and flashes his chauffeurs hat. With a shrug as if it to say ’blame the boss’, he defuses the situation and she turns to walk off. Disappointment in not being able to issue the ticket or in not being able to engage the walking ebony sculpture in conversation. He will never know, nor really care.
The hat has its uses but generally he keeps it hidden. The car is his to all intents and purposes provided he is at Mistress Madelaine’s within an hour of her calling should she wish to be driven anywhere. Only then does he wear the hat. It goes down very well with the chicks. The car that is!
After arriving at Mistress’s home, set in woods off a discrete private drive, he would normally clean the car. It is never dirty for more than an hour after it has been stationary at the house. It’s no big deal for him, he loves the thing. Today he leaves it and enters the house by the back door. Tradesman’s Entrance, a small sign proclaims; reminds him of arseholes.
He has a key to this door but it will only allow access to certain parts of the house, the back kitchen, back hallway, one of the reception rooms and the garage and gym of course. He makes himself a coffee from the machine in the back kitchen and takes it with him to await Mistress in the reception room.
‘I trust the mission is accomplished?’ She startles him as she enters the room silently.
‘Yes Mistress Madelaine, I believe so.’
‘Good, now we have business to conduct. Take off your clothes and come with me. Leave them there. Neatly!’
‘Of course, Mistress,’ he replies. Never ‘Yes, Mistress,’ she hates that.
How those women in the outside world would be surprised if they saw him now. His massive frameis honed to perfection in the gym at the back of the garage block. It is his other task apart from driving, to keep himself in tip-top shape. The major shock, however, would be reserved for his ‘accoutrements’.
About his neck is a 2 cm thick gold plated collar, with a ring at the front carrying a name plate. ‘Stud’, it proclaims on one side, ‘Property of Mistress Madelaine on the reverse.
His wrists and ankles are similarly adorned with gold bands, those at his wrists somewhat slimmer, those at the ankles, the same thickness. Both sets carry rings but like the collar and have no visible means of opening.
More shocking still is the jewellery through his nipples, heavy gauge gold hoops in the shape of a handcuff.
The killer is his penis. Huge, one would assume, but it is hard to tell as it is confined in a gold-coloured, curved metal tube attached to a shaped metal belt running round his waist. The tube is far too small as can be seen by the head of it poking out of the end. A thick gold barbell runs right through the glans and prevents the tube being removed. An erection in this apparatus would be painful to the point of being harmful. No chance of him fooling around with his admirers, then.
All of this is covered up in day-to –day activities by well-cut shirts and suits and an obligatory neck-tie.
He has worn them for some time now, his skin having passed the state of chaffing against the metal. They are actually his badges of honour. He is top rank. ‘Stud.’ There is no higher honour for him. He is acutely aware that with the title comes a responsibility. Performance, as and when required. No excuses. Be ready for service at a moment’s notice.
Any admirers brave enough to ignore these additions would be hard-pressed to ignore the rest.
His back carries the marks of sustained and regular whippings, showing as dark raised welts on his ebony skin. His buttocks similarly so. They are actually deep permanent scars, delivered over the years of his breaking.
He was never trained, he was broken, like a wild animal. It would have been easier for him to have yielded to the training, for the result was ultimately the same. Faithful and unflinching obedience.
She reaches up and affixes a thick chain lad to the collar, ceremonial rather than of any real use. He could crush her like a mouse if he desired. But then what?
‘Your butt looks a little wobbly, stud. Have you been neglecting your squats?’
‘Mistress, no, I have had a calf strain which has cut down the reps this week.’ He bows his head in shame and annoyance at his failure.
‘Poor you.’
Sympathy is between shit and syphilis in Mistress’s dictionary too.
She swats his behind. ‘Upstairs with you. If you can still make the climb. Your payment is waiting.’
33. Remuneration
Along the corridor from the landing is a small suite consisting of a main room and an over- sized, white tiled bathroom, with walk in shower, toilet bowl, bidet and a peculiar seat arrangement, similar to that used for hoisting a disabled person into the bath.
In the main room, there is a bed with an iron frame, opposite a series of doors which, when opened, conceal a wash hand-basin and a fully stocked bar, aswell as a set of stocks, a sturdy metal cage and a rack of fetish items that would stock a small shop.
In the cage crouches a naked female. Slim and very fit, flat stomach, pert tits, shapely dancers legs. Her wrists are fastened outside the cage, her backside to the wall. Her head is quite bald. No eyebrows even.
She is beautiful.
The disk at her silver collar reads, ‘slave slut’
‘Curtis, you may take your pleasure with her, I have no time for you this morning, as you know I have another matter to attend to.’ With that Mistress unfastens the padlock at the back of the chastity belt and leaves.
‘Lock yourself up when you are finished.’ With that she is gone, leaving Curtis supporting the belt rather than have it pull against his cock head.
With careful manipulation the piercing is through the tube, lucky he managed to keep himself in control as once the blood flows there is no way of getting his cock out of the gold cylinder.
Approaching the cage, M looks up at him lasciviously.
‘So, slave M, it appears that you are my cum bucket. Now where are the cage keys?’
‘Mistress has them Mr Curtis, sir.’ A hint of sarcasm.
Oh shit, the bitch. She knew full well what she was leaving me, an object to wank over.
‘Mr Curtis,i can suck you off or give you a hand job.’
Well bollocks to that. Quickly he drags the cage out of the cupboard so he can access her behind, which is conveniently pressed against the back of the cage.
‘No, Mr Curtis, please use my mouth….’
‘There is always a way, M. Now I have access to all of you’
Looking at her pussy he realises why she was more willing to see to him from the front. The long double row of labial piercings are fastened to the cage bars, spread apart and any thrusting in amongst them will surely be most uncomfortable for her.
‘Goddamn it, does she never stop fucking with us. Okay front it is.’
Quickly pushing the cage back to where it was, M offers her mouth to the cage bars and, kneeling, Curtis offers his prick to her mouth.
He may be a performing stud for his Mistress, but even he cannot resist M’s mouth, her pierced tongue flicking his ball sack as she deep-throats him expertly.
‘For crying out loud, M, I’ve not come for two weeks I want it to last more than thirty seconds.’
It is no good, she has obviously decided to get it done quick.
‘Cum bucket, am i?’ Well no point making it too enjoyable for you, then.’ She speaks between gob-fulls of cock, choking briefly, saliva dribbling down her chin and nose.
‘Well, fuck you, take this then.’
With that Curtis pulls his prick out of her reach outside the cage and with a few long strokes, wanks himself to orgasm all over her face and bald pate. Two weeks worth of it.
‘You sonofabitch, i can’t even clean myself off.’
‘You should have thought of that when you shot off your smart mouth, you slut. Just remember, Mistress is the only one in this house gives me orders’
He rises to his feet, and closes the cupboard door, the light clicking outbehind it.
34. Trussed
Curtis wanders down the stairs; he has managed to manoeuvre his cock back into the tube while in the bathroom and has clicked the oversize padlock shut in the small of his back. Of all the metal he wears about his body everyday it is that lock that bothers him most, digging into his lower back whenever he is seated.
He complained to Mistress Madelaine about it once. Two weeks later he still could only perch on a chair. He let the matter rest.
‘My, that was quick. Wash she so horny?’ Mistress almost bumped into him, exiting her own suite of rooms.
‘She was dripping by the time I had finished with her, Mistress,’ a sly grin etched on his face.
‘Very well, I trust you are trussed up again?’
‘Ye..Of course, Mistress.’ Christ he nearly said Yes, Mistress.
‘Very good. I will need your help in the basement. I believe our guest is getting restless.’
35. Basement
i had long since lost track of time. It seemed to have been hours before someone loosened the hog-tie a little and threw down a pillow. Of course i could see nothing and so spent an age shuffling around trying to find it. i guess i slept, for i had some fairly intense dreams, images of hordes of revellers doing all manor of unspeakable things to each other, all dressed in latex, dripping sweat to a back-beat of techno music.
Then i awoke with a spasm in the back of my leg. Prone to cramp, particularly in the big muscles at the back of the thigh, this was the worst position to be in, with no way to fully straighten the leg and relieve the tension.
Agony. Oh yes. Anyone who has had cramp will appreciate it. Right at that moment i would have chewed razor blades and fucked a cheese grater in preference. Best be careful what i wish for.
The screaming began, i could not help myself, no gag and i was thrashing around trying to find some form of relief.
Over my screaming i barely hear the door. I feel the boot in my ribs alright.
‘Worm, you had better shut that racket, or a bit of cramp will be the least of your worries’
‘Curtis, cut its legs’
Oh my dusky friend has joined us, fun and joy for all.
‘Mistress?’ So glad he thought he had mis-heard too.
‘Cut its legs free and stretch the leg out, come on you are supposed to be an athlete, work its ankle until the spasming stops’
Curtis slashes the cord attaching my ankles to my wrists behind my back. i shoot my legs out so fast i almost kick him in the shins.
‘Oooh, temper, temper. Maybe it is not ready to be helped, Curtis, shall we leave it alone again.’
‘No, please, i’m sorry, i couldn’t help, Mistress please, don’t go, pl.....’
My grovelling is stopped by a kick in the crotch, driving the chastity contraption into my guts.
‘Oh for Christ’s sake, it’s pissed itself’ Curtis turns away in disgust as a dark stain grows on the floor, leaking from the hole in the end of the tube.
‘Oh dear. Worm is in distress. Maybe i should get you to tidy that up my prissy stud. I know you love all things.... lavatorial.’
Mistress throws her head back and laughs, the first time i had heard laughter here. Not sure i like it.
Of all the things she had done and all the things he had endured in his conditioning, it was an hour in a ‘medical room’ that had finally broken him. He could not abide bodily fluids, even his own. Even watching his seed drip off M’s head had almost turned his stomach. As for pee and the rest? No. Not his thing. An inflatable tube up his arse and the threat of a warm pee enema had finally humbled him.
The funnel in his mouth hadn’t helped either!
Mistress crouches and lifts my head by the laces on the hood.
‘Now listen to me, you worthless piece of shit, i will release you from the bindings on condition you behave and listen to what i have to tell you.’
If she shouted at me i would be scared, when she whispers, i am petrified.
‘Yes, Mistress.’ It’s all i can think to say.
Curtis winces from behind her.
‘Yes, Mistress, indeed.’ As you are merely raw material right now, i shall ignore that comment. Say it once more though and it will be to your eternal detriment. Understand!’ Her voice raised slightly now.
‘No, sorry. I didn’t...’ i have no idea what she wants from me, best just shut up.
She slaps my face and i think my teeth have rattled loose.
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing, Mistress. I’m sorry. Forgive me, i don’t know what i said to...’
Whack. Another smack across the face, this time with something less yielding than a hand,
‘There are three words that are never spoken together in this house. They are?’
She turns to Curtis questioningly.
‘Yes’
‘No’
‘Mistress’
‘Correct, stud. Yes, no and Mistress.’
‘No, is a forbidden word on its own if it is in answer to a question at any time. Combined with Mistress makes it no more acceptable.’
‘Yes, can be said at any time, but not with the word Mistress directly following it.’
What the fuck is she on about? i thought i was supposed to be respectful. She told me the other night not to ever forget her title in a sentence.
‘Uttering, Yes, Mistress, is the ultimate in laziness and shows no respect, merely paying lip-service to your betters. This is not some movie, where the sluts perform for money, this is reality. My reality.’
‘You have been warned. Any future infraction will not bode well for your continued well-being,’
Yanking my head up to hers she calmly speaks. ‘Understood? Worm?’
‘This worm understands, Mistress.’
‘Ha, ha, very good, it has a brain! There is hope after all. Following your little stunt last night with the photograph, i began to wonder.’
Last night! Oh shit, am i going to miss work again. Franklin will go berserk, especially if i don’t warn him.
‘Now, Curtis here will release you. The hood will remain on, but the eye flap will be removed. The cuffs will also remain on and locked but not to each other. However, you may move about un-encumbered. I strongly suggest you find a method of removing your piss from my floor and getting it in the bucket over there.
After you have completed the task we shall talk about your future.
With that she was gone with a flutter of heavy material and the clicking of heels, up the stairs and away.
36. Puzzle
i can see and move around, The spasms in my leg have subsided but it is sore, i massage it and it is a little better. Stretch the calf by standing with my toes on the end of the treadmill and dipping into the ankles. Old riding trick to get ones heels down.
Looking around there is all manner of stuff in here, some vaguely gym-related stuff and some equipment of a more sadistic nature, though some would say the tread mill is sadistic enough. Or masochistic, perhaps.
i see the metal pail in the corner, but there is no mop or cloth. i hunt around again, still nothing, no towels, no cloths, no sponge, nothing.
The puddle is sizeable and stinks. First morning pee and a stressed one at that. Yuk.
She cannot mean me to lick it up surely. It would never work anyway unless i licked the floor too.
‘Oh fuck.’
Is that what she has in mind?
‘No fucking way.’
No i’m missing something. The bitch would have watched that, it would have been a humiliation. She is testing me. What the fuck is in here that i’m missing?
Then i see it,
There is a small locker, almost like a school one. Metal, slats in it to let the air in.
i open it and there are my clothes, a pair of white CK’s, grey track suit bottoms, and a grey t-shirt. i was not wearing them when Shadow jumped me. (he didn’t jump me did he? How would i know?) but they were on the bed.
So that’s it then, the pants are thick flocked cotton and they will sponge up the liquid alright. Maybe i should use the shirt, it will dry quicker after it’s washed?
I get to it, kneeling down, being careful not to set my thigh off again and begin soaking up the puddle. After two or three dunks and squeezes in the bucket, the shirt is almost useless.
The pants are next then and soon after the puddle is pretty much gone, just a dark, damp stain on the concrete.
Now what? Sit here? Stand? Go for a run? Ha, i don’t think so. Bang on the door to say i am finished?
‘Er. No.’
Nevertheless i can’t help but try the door. Carefully turning the handle, hoping it does not squeak, it pushes right down and clicks. Open
Choices.
Run naked up the stairs and into Shadow. No
Run naked up the stairs and pray i can get out the house. No.
Where will i go, running round the countryside in nothing but a cock lock that looks like it is a prop from Tomb Raider. No.
i could get dressed. Ahhh. Clever, she wants to see if i will wear this piss-soaked stuff and then make a dash for it. Better, but still not great.
‘You done down there?’ Curtis! At the top of the stairs.
‘Yes....erm...Sir....Sorry, i was just going to...’
I have no idea what i was going to...
‘Wait by the cross, on your knees, head up, hands on the knees, palms up.’
‘Got it?’
‘Yes, er, of course Sir.’ The same rule may apply to him too.
He is down the steps in seconds.
‘I told you in an elevator once before, do not refer to me as, Sir. I am not a master, i am a slave too. Just a higher grade. I have earned my stripes, if you get my drift?’
He sounds almost familial.
‘Now, i have some instructions to carry out. Do not be so foolish as to resist.
‘Then you can go home.’
37. Future
i am in the same room where i was raped by Mistress Victoria’s pet a couple of days ago. Mr Curtis, for that is what he told me to refer to him as, has re-arranged my attire.
The elaborate, heavy and impenetrable chastity device is gone. Quick manipulation by his surprisingly deft fingers released me in no time as i stood against the cross, arms up, loosely fastened to it.
In its place is a leather-edged, metal belt that cinches round the waist, locked at the back. It goes between the legs and encases my penis tightly but only to the base of the glans. Access to the piercing in the end is now possible. My hanging balls dangle below, nothing fastened round the scrotum this time, the belt itself appears to be security enough.
i am kneeling on the floor in the classic slavery pose, palms up on the knees. Never actually seen a man adopt this position, only females. The movies i watch, i guess.
My head is still hooded and the eye flap is closed, my mouth is filled with a big rubber ball gag. I must look like a right twat.
The collar is still on and cuffs of a similardesign are now in place on my wrists and ankles.
Mistress is seated opposite me on the sofa. At least that’s where it sounds that her voice is coming from, i have still barely glimpsed the room and i have not set eyes on her at all. i have an image in my head, but it has no corroboration.
‘So, worm. To our chat.’
i hear stocking clad thighs brush against each other as i assume she crosses her legs. Or uncrosses them? Whatever.
‘You have choices to make. Strange as that may seem.’
‘In a few minutes you will leave here and return to your hotel with Curtis. No choice there, it will happen,’
‘From then on your future is in your hands. You will return here later this week. There is no choice there either. When you return, you will have decided your future.’
She pauses. For effect, i think. It’s not the X-factor, get on with it.
‘One. Return and have the collar and the rest removed. For good. You shall then never engage in any bdsm activities with anyone as long as you live. Be sure i will find out if you do and you shall then wish you had no longerto live.’
This time the pause for effect has the desired, well, effect.
‘Two. Return and commit to living your life outside these walls but under my complete command. You shall not hide your ownership nor disobey any orders or requests. You will admit to and revel in being my property and all your acquaintances must understand this to be the case. Think of it as ‘coming out’ for a homosexual or a trans-gender.’
‘Three. Return and commit to me totally, as my property, for me to do with entirely as i see fit, no get out clauses, no safe-words, no freedom. Until i grow bored. For i shall. Eventually.’
‘Four. Actually there is no four. Keep it simple That is all.’
With that she is gone, no questions, just choices, all or nothing. Either forfeit my urges to dabble in the scene or be outed as a ‘pervert’. Or just disappear, completely into a life of servitude.
Whatever would my wife say?
End of Part Two.
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