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Justin's BDSM stories
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
  THE NEW ARRANGEMENT
(or, “An au pair thing.”)
“Daniel, sweetheart” Daphne said to me one afternoon as we shared the Sunday “Times”. “Yes, dear?” I asked, “Do you want some more Irish coffee?” Daph smiled and looked at me affectionately. “No, I wanted to talk to you, honey…I have some interesting news…it’s about taking things in our relationship a little further. Do you remember you were telling me that?” I was confused for a moment “Further?” We’d been married nineteen years…”Oh, that.” I smiled and Daphne nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, honey, I remember now, I want you to take me past my limits as a submissive.” Daphne smiled and her breasts shifted in her pink sweater. I felt my penis harden painfully against the steel tube between my legs. “I’ve been thinking…” My breath quickened. What would she think of? Electrodes? Moving from the razor strop to a real cat-o-nine tails? Or a spiked butt plug, I’ve been begging for one of those, I think I can take it…

Daphne watched my brain roll around with an amused smile. “Honey, I think that your needs in this case, could dovetail with mine…what would you think of having someone in here to help me train you?” My mind raced. God, would it be her friend Penelope? That tall brunette with the high breasts always had a kind of contemptuous look about her, if it hadn’t been for my chastity tube, I often would’ve whacked off after every time Pen strode in our house, her spike heels clicking on the hardwood floor.. Or our babysitter. Wouldn’t that be something? She always writhed around in her little halter and shorts, grinning at me when I dropped her at her dorm after staying with Michael. I could picture her paddling my red bottom while bouncing around listening to Jewel on her Walkman. Then there was the girl who cleaned the pool…

“Which woman were you thinking of, honey, someone you know? Or someone in an ad, for a weekend?” Daphne shook her head. God she looked radiant as the afternoon sun was hit her auburn curls. After all these years, she’s still my world. “No, honey, I was thinking of someone to come and live with us. You know, full time. Michael is off to the Academy ‘til Christmas, so we have a lot of privacy.” Daphne’s eyes twinkled. Oh, I want to make love to her, I thought. It’s been ten years since we actually had sex, Daphne and I, but maybe there would be supervised masturbation tonight. Daphne giggled. “And it’s not a woman, I’m thinking of a man.” Something died in my throat. “A man? To train me?” I looked around me, as if the guy were coming in the door. ”Daphne, I don’t need a man to LIVE here, and train me…I’m not gay.” God, what was she thinking of? I’m the captain of the club tennis team. I bench two-forty.

Daphne leaned forward and put her hand on my knee. “I know, honey, but you’ve been with men before, you’re a hell of a cock sucker, actually.” I flushed. “Yes, Daph, but that’s only because you ordered me to, when we were having that long session at the Ranch. I had to, you kept hitting me with the scourge.. I don’t … I Well, it’s happened several times over the years.But only because you WANTED me to.” Daphne’s fingers moved down my thigh. “I know, baby…and I want you to again. “I’ve met someone—well you know him. Tanner. You know he’s quit the Ranch, you offered him work in one of your warehouses. But he wants to go to back to school, it would be like an au pair thing.” I choked. “Tanner? He can’t live here, Daphne!” Thinking of Tanner, belt in hand, did make my cock swell painfully once again against the cold steel. But I protested. “ I don’t want Tanner here! In this neighborhood?” Daphne slapped my face, lightly. “Hey! Are you a racist? He’s not even black, he’s one quarter Seminole. And he’s a good trainer. He’s done lots of work with you, you know. Do you think you could’ve learned to cock sucking overnight?”

Daphne giggled again. “And what do you mean, you can’t serve a man? Tanner’s been working with you for over three years. Remember when I first gave you the strop? How you screamed and cried? Dan, honey, they used to laugh at you at every play party, every dungeon in this state, you were such a crybaby. I had to gag you, to give you any discipline..” I blushed deeply, and stared at the floor. Daphne’s finger pulled my chin up to stare into her love-filled eyes. “But after your training weekends with Tanner at the Ranch? Now you can take ANYTHING in silence, nipple clamps, hot wax cbt. I can punish you now without having to close the windows. Dan, they used to laugh at you in every dungeon in town, the way you screamed! And now your stoic! You owe Tanner, honey. Think of what he’s done for you.”

Being cuffed by my wrists to one of the rafters in the Ranch stable, Tanner’s scourge singing as it hit my bare ass for the seventeenth time—or was it the twenty-eighth?, the half-breed’s deep throated laugh. “It’s all right, Mr. Wallman. You’re coming along.” Taking his huge dick in my mouth, as I cowered in the straw afterwards, my blistered rear touching the back of my feet, bending over his crotch. And then the cuff to my head. “KNEEL, Mr. Wallman! Don’t rest on your feet. Kneel as if you were kneeling in church. Up straight-- Do I have to get the scourge again?” Tanner would grasp my hair and make me rest only on my knees as I slurped up his discharge. If Daphne hadn’t given Tanner the key to my chastity tube, I probably wouldn’t have returned for the fourth weekend. “No key for you, old man, until you can take it like a man!” Tanner had told me the final weekend at the Ranch. I had failed one of my “final exams”, the Sunday before, taking a caning while soaking wet.

I had just shown up again that Friday night, sullen as all get out. No golf, no Rotary clubs in a month, just these brutal training sessions with an evil American Indian. It wasn’t fair. Tanner had instructed his slave to dress me in a humiliating bonnet and thigh length white stockings with a garter belt, and patent leather Mary Janes. A sign proclaiming “I THROW TANTRUMS” hung around my neck. Other than that, I was naked except for the chastity tube. I slouched out of the costume room, and went into the dungeon, where Tanner had been waiting, with a whimsical smile. “What’s going on, Mr. Wallman! How’ve you been? This is your final scheduled weekend here at the Ranch, y’know.”
At five hundred a day, I sure hoped so.

“That is, if you pass final exams.” The slave standing behind Tanner sniggered. “Otherwise, Mrs. Wallman has given the okay for as many more weekends as we’ll need.” That was the point where I stomped my foot, and tried to look commanding, as I was at work—but it was a bit ridiculous in a bonnet, stockings and heels. “Look here, Tanner, this is my final weekend. I’m certainly as interested in being a good submissive as my wife wants—I was the one who got her involved with S&M, for God’s sake—but it’s gone long enough! You can’t make me stay here past this weekend, damn it!” Tanner had grinned and showed me the key to my chastity tube. “Mrs. Wallman says it’s been seventy-six days since your last squirt, your behavior’s so fuckin’ bad.—want to try for a year?” And I completed my training that fourth weekend, and today could take forty with the strop without a murmur, searing as it might be. Remembering Sunday night, after I’d passed my last pain test, singing “The Good Ship Lollipop” without interruption while clothespins were knocked off my testicles.

Daphne and her sister had shown up in their silver fox furs. There had been a wine and cheese thing while watching the final clothespin fall without a murmur from me. And then the women in my life stood with the entire Ranch staff, clapping wildly as Tanner had ceremoniously unlocked my belt, removing the tube. Kneeling naked in front of fifty-eight people, pumping out a fire-hose cum load, a two month back log of frustration. After I’d licked my spew off the dirty Ranch floor, I’d smothered Tanner’s boot with kisses as the crowd gave me a final ovation.

Now I looked at my wife. “Daphne, I love our life together. I don’t want anyone else sharing it with us, and-and I’m trained. I can take whippings, I don’t whine any more—remember last night, when you put me back in the tube? Jeez, after three hours of teasing, I was going to beg you for an orgasm—it’s been a while, dear! But I submissively said nothing. I’ve objected to you having lovers in the house, but I don’t ask anything, do I, when you go out with those young men to the nightclubs? I do my chore list and go to bed, honey! When you left with Miguel for a weekend, and asked for the card? I’m a good boy—man.” I was losing ground here. “I mean, with Tanner here, our alone time would be compromised, like now, honey. Reading the Sunday Times over mocha.”

Daphne sipped from her mug as she listened. “I’d probably be required to be naked all the time, if Tanner has anything to do with it, Daph. He’d want me on the floor on my knees, and I’d get whipped for taking to much time in the bathroom.” I finished bitterly. I remembered that from the Ranch. I was a “slacker” Tanner thought, and he had had me on a one square of toilet paper ration, and a limit of three minutes in the john, three times a day, and woe if I wasn’t out of there, Tanner would run in and rip me off the toilet, going at it with his evil steel paddle…if I complained that I was constipated, of course that would lead to an enema.”You need someone to be hard on you, Mr. Wallman.” Tanner had said one afternoon after he’d finished paddling me. “Your wife lets you get away with murder—she whips you what, twice a week?”

Finally Daphne spoke. “But, Dan, you’re missing the point. I shouldn’t have to spend the nights away with my lovers. Your role in this house isn’t to object to my decisions, baby. I want you to accept, without question, other men in this house, to serve them at my request.” Daphne’s soft voice was gradually turning to steel. “This year we made five goals together, things we both wanted. You’ve met none of them.

You were going to turn your Visa cards and the bank accounts over to me, and get a strict allowance. You were going to be home from work earlier, so you could prepare and serve me my dinner, and eat your own in the kitchen. You were going to do more sit-ups so you can become proficient at autofellatio. You were to lose twenty pounds—do you think I want you keeling over of a heart attack in our basement pillory? I got a call from the Ranch…Stan the scat queen tells me you’ve been missing your ingestion exercises. At fifty bucks an appointment—“

“Honey, I drink your pee already. I don’t have to, I don’t want Copraphilia 101. I can’t eat—“ Daphne put her mug down hard on the table. “Daniel, you are forgetting yourself. First, you’re supposed to call it my golden nectar. Secondly, if I wanted a finicky eater, I wouldn’t bother getting a slave. You started begging me to dominate you on our honeymoon, finally I gave in…if that’s not what you want, Dan, that’s fine.

We’ll sell the equipment downstairs, I’ll become a faithful wife, and the games will be over…all of them. We’ll hire Fernanda back to do your housework. You can have poker night again, start playing golf. We’ll start having sex again, everything. Is that what you want?” The idea of making love to Daph again was so exhilarating, and to get out on the green at the Club instead of scrubbing the bathroom every Saturday morning…to be allowed to cum more than once a month! But suddenly, there was lots of room in my chastity tube…my erection had subsided.

“Is that what you want, Dan?” asked Daphne quietly. I sighed, and shook my head. “No.” I couldn’t live without Mistress Daph and her training…but did I want Master Tanner, too?

“Well, good, then. I think, since we’re having this conversation, you need to put the paper down, strip off your clothes and kneel before me. There’s been way too much familiarity around here. I am your Mistress.” Daphne folded her arms and watched me hurriedly undress. “Honey, I love you, and I like our non-scene times together, but I’m afraid we need less of them. You can’t seem to handle this kind of freedom. And yes, Tanner tells me that you should be nude as soon as you enter the house, and crawl about on your hands and knees, whenever you’re not doing chores or in session. Tanner laughed when I told him we shared the bedroom—that’ll be over. When he and I are watching television, you’re to be kneeling in the corner, listening to Ranch training tapes on your headset. And Tanner thinks all this first name stuff is bullshit! He wants you to refer to us both as Master and Mistress, and frankly, not speak unless you are spoken to.”

I listened to this, and my cock began to surge in its metal trap. What degradation…but still, did I want to lose all the intimacies of our regular life? Playing chess, evening walks in the park, hand in hand, laughing together over “Will and Grace.” And, Tanner he’d probably want to—Suddenly I spoke up. “Honey, Tanner is going to try to sleep with you! I know this is part of his plan! Daphne, he’ll share the bed WITH you, if I’m not in there!” Tears came into my eyes. Could I give my life up, wasn’t she afraid—Daphne saw my tears, and her gentler nature took over. “Honey, bring me your handcuffs and my purse.” I shuffled over with both, the hated tears coming down my cheeks.

Daphne turned me around, and locked the handcuffs behind me, and then spun me back, and reached into her purse, taking out the key to my chastity tube. She removed the tube and the belt, and began gently stroking my purple cock. “There, there, honey…” Daphne ran her forefinger across the precum-stained tip, and giggled. “Someone’s been excited by all this conversation. You sure you object?” I hung my head…I couldn’t help being aroused. “Honey, I haven’t had a supervised masturbation session, no orgasm, in forty-one days! And you tease me for an hour in the morning and an hour at night…of course I’m horny! That doesn’t mean I want Tanner moving in here and pawing you!”

Daphne’s eyes narrowed, and she flicked the tip of my cock sharply with one nail. “If it wasn’t that you are taking in new information, I’d take the strop off the nail and bend you over the armrest of the couch, mister. Keep up telling me what you want and don’t want, and you’ll spend tonight in the dog kennel! The kennel was a four by eight cage in the back yard. It was August, and the last night I’d spent there, I’d been naked, slapping mosquitoes and trying not to get a cramp as I crouched for the twelve hours of the night.

I looked at the floor sullenly pretending not to notice Daphne’s elegant pink nails massaging the base of my straining shaft.



to be continued... 
  Evilmommie’s Little Sperm Eater

My husband had a complete aversion to eating his semen, or anyone else’s. The first time I asked him to lick his semen out of my vagina after making love to me, he was quite annoyed. It was John who had encouraged me to dominate him, but he didn’t want to do anything too icky. Besides which, I had recently put John into a chastity device and he’d been abstinent for some time, and his semen backlog had risen after I’d begun tying him down for long teasing treatments, tying Johnnie to a bed or chair and running my long red nails up and down his quivering, unsatisfied shaft, pulling and stroking…and then icing him down and putting him back in the belt! So when he was allowed to mount me, he’d squirted a great deal of semen into me, and he especially didn’t want to lick it all out.



“No, Evilmommie, I just can’t go there, darling. I’ll clean you out with a rag as I always do.” Many women don’t even get that treatment from a husband, but as you can tell, Evilmommie wanted more! “Very well, darling.” I smiled. “But the next time you’ll be out of that thing will be twice as long as the term you just served—two weeks, perhaps?” John had had fantasies of the chastity device, but he’d quickly grown to hate it, and certainly he didn’t want to do more than a few days in it. (Now of course, he is only allowed to cum once every two months) So finally John gagged, and licked me out, and also gave me a couple of orgasms afterwards. He was more than a little turned on by the concept of being forced to eat his own semen, quite obviously! But the revulsion was still there.



After a time, I began having sex with John less, preferring his mouth’s attentions. After his spending several hours between my legs, I would unlock the belt and blow him or jerk him off…and then I realized that Evilmommie doesn’t have to do all that work! So I’d have Johnnie masturbate himself into a little dish and go wash it off…and then one day a woman on one of my e-groups challenged me to get Johnnie to lick up his semen. I was a bit chagrined by this, I didn’t know how far I could take this thing. After all, John is a successful dentist and a rather attractive man, and he might just think Evilmommie had gone a bit far. We are at that dangerous age…the children have moved out, and I didn’t want Johnnie to. But the woman, a Goddess Marguerite encouraged me. “Just do what you did with the belt, darling” she wrote. “Make the poor bugger stay locked up until he complies.” And it worked! I got the curt refusal “No I won’t lick my own semen” and this time I had him locked for a month, and amazingly! John quite docilely licked up his sperm the next time he was allowed release. So now he was either licking it out of me or off the plate whenever he was allowed out of the chastity device. With my constant milking and teasing of Johnnie’s little penis, he was always quite ready to release, and at some point I rather think he would’ve licked up nuclear waste if I’d required it.



But then gradually, I began seeing other men ( I found I was to be somewhat turned off at the sight of a quivering, nude ball of jelly crouched on the Oriental rug, slobbering over the tips of my nice calfskin pumps…much more fun to enjoy the attentions of a nice, muscular bicycle courier, or perhaps that’s just me!) and I completely stopped sleeping with John, only enjoying his oral attentions, quite often after I’d been visiting others.



One afternoon, after I’d spent the morning with my tennis pro and the afternoon with the UPS man, I was lying rather exhaustedly on the couch. I felt I should douche, as the two young men’s loads were almost falling out of me. But then the door opened and John came in from work. He saw me lying on the couch, with my robe open and a bit of mess coming out, and his face darkened. There was nothing, NOTHING the man could do about this adultery business, but he certainly became quite angry about it. “Darling, I—I feel a bit messy.” I confessed after he’d taken off his jacket and kissed me on the cheek. “Won’t you clean me out?” I winked. “They call them creampies, you know.” John stamped his foot. “Mean another man’s sewage? Evilmommie, perhaps you have finally gone too far.” I smiled, and reached out to unbuckle John’s pants, and as they dropped to his ankles, I unlocked and removed his chastity device (keep the key around your neck, girls!) and began to massage his poor, neglected penis. It quickly hardened, and Johnnie moaned. I had been putting him through all kinds of hell with my long, penile massages…I’d gone from jerking him hard and fast, again and again to the point that he’d be about to release and then stopping…to forbidding him orgasm! It would be Johnnie’s responsibility to hold back. I tried to tease and massage him every day, and at this point in our relationship, the poor boy was only allowed to cum about once a month, and then of course it was jerking off into the dish, and slurping it up.



John had now been denied 18 days, and was quite horny, as I spent a great deal of time running about in tight, frilly outfits that exposed my bulging cleavage and long legs. Just now, it was true that my pussy was seeping shamefully, but I had a pale blue brassiere on under my gown, and I began giving John little peeks at my cleavage as I casually stroked his stiffening rod. I ran my nails around the head of John’s cock taking the foreskin between my thumb and middle finger and pulling it back and forth, very gradually, teasing the frenum. John looked quite stubborn, though. He had terrible resentments against my infidelities, especially since all of his orgasms were controlled by me! I could blow and fuck who I liked, and Johnnie couldn’t even jerk off without permission! But my rubbing was having some sort of effect on him. John’s teeth were gritted, his cock was a missile,and preejaculate was slowly dripping from the glans. Pumping his cock slowly, I asked again “Darling boy, can’t you consider your Evilmommie’e needs? Those bad men who were here er-violating me mean NOTHIING to Evilmommie. Darling, please clean Evilmommie out, and I’ll give you a little treat!”



I showed John my bra again, and I swung my breasts about seductively. John’s mouth watered. I pulled the tip of Johnnie’s penis to the tips of my cleavage, and poked his poor, frustrated cock between my pink breasts sloowwwly. John is not allowed to touch my breasts often, or even see them uncovered, though the “covers” I use for them are not very baggy…usually snug sweaters and tight t-shirts, even at my age. I pushed his penis further between my tender breasts and blew cool air on the purple glans and then licked the tip a bit, as it popped out of the cleavage again. Then I began toying with the foreskin and tickling the scrotum with my other hand, and did my nails tickle that poor groin of his! John giggled, and I think then he forgot the other men. I played along the middle of his violent, trembling shaft, alternately pumping hard and then very slowly, and he moaned, and even more preejaculate was drooling down his penis. But John still shook his head when I pointed to my vagina. Annoyed, I stood up and pointed to the arm of the sofa, and and John sighed and bent over, his bare bottom sticking up as his hard cock pressed against the itchy material of the sofa arm. I went over and picked up my trusty razor strop and walked casually back over to where John’s bottom was sticking out.



“Sweetness, Evilmommie’s not mad at you, honey. This is just a part of your training.honey. Are you absolutely certain that you won’t clean Evilmommie out?” Johnnie began to cry a bit. “Not-not their mess. Just mine.” John coughed. “I am after all your husband” he added bitterly. I sighed and gave Johnnie’s bottom the first lash WHACK! “What do you say, Johnnie?” I asked quietly. “Th-thank you Evilmommie.” WHACK WHACK “Thank y-you Evilmommie” I began feeling revolted. John could never take pain as well as some of the other slave-men at our local S/M club. When I was attempting to train Johnnie to take his whippings in silence, I’d promise him a blowjob which he hadn’t had in years, if he could just take the lashing with the strap, cane or scourge like a “little man” Johnnie would drop his pants, his eyes glistening at the memories of my full lips around his cock, and then he’d bend over…and every time, after about the eighth stroke, his “Thank you, Evilmommie” would turn into “th-thank—sob-please, no more—thank (sob) you, Evil-Mahm—please no more!” Usually after he began crying in earnest, I’d get furious and give him about thirty more strokes, after each of which Johnnie would just scream and struggle and then I would order him into the corner, and my daughter and her sorority sisters (who for some reason found this quite amusing) would chuckle as Johnnie shuffled to the corner, his pants bunched around his ankles and his poor bottom welted red.



Today was no different, I whipped Johnnie for about ten minutes, and then he was on his knees, grabbing his butt with both hands and weeping. “Please don’t make me lick up that scum, oh please…” So I turned tender again, and reached down to stroke his penis affectionalely. “Be a good boy and lick it up all now, and it’ll be over, and I’ll let you take Evilmommie’s panties into the potty room and you can do your business in them…” Johnnie’s eyes lit up. It is sad that a former Marine, and a medical doctor who once slept with five or six women at a time, even several years into our marriage, had now been degraded into wanting, or at least being pleased by so little, but finally Johnnie nodded happily and he licked me out and once again, licked for several moments longer, and he’s never objected to creampies or semen, his or anyone elses. Unfortunateley, when he finished, he looked at me expectantly. Then he was shocked when I attempted to stuff his cock back into the chastity device. “B-buh Evilmommie, you said Johnnie could take your panties—“ I finally got annoyed at the hardness of Johnnie’s cock and I got my whippy cane and WHACKED it into limpness. As Johnny was weeping once again, I locked him in. “Yes, sweetness I will let you jerk off into Evilmommie’s panties, but you get two months of celibacy for all the fuss you put up first. Anything else?” I added severely. “No Evilmommie dearest.”

Wonderful! Then why don’t you go get Evilmommie’s dinner together.” Johnnie pulled up his pants and walked off to the kitchen sobbing softly.



And that’s how I taught my husband to eat sperm!



Love, Evilmommie






 
  Teasing my husband, Johnny Cumbucket

Watching me blow Andre that night was so painful to
Johnny..physically as well for once. The evening had started out
well...I'd been running my long magenta nails up and down Johnny's
hard cock, lightly scratching the head and toying with the Frenum.
Johnny was humiliatingly naked except for his wig and heels, as
always and I had my 40 DD's stuffed into one of those pale blue
demibras, jigglin' and jugglin' them in front of him.

Slathered with Chanel No. 5. of course. My nails traveled up and
down the huge vein in the side of his shaft, and as his hips tried to
rise to shove the cock in my hands, I pinched the vein hard and
Johnny screamed, and fell back again. Tears coursing down his face,
he apologized for being controlling, and I soothed him. "Just be a
good boy, sweetheart, and let Mommy make-ums feel batter" I patted
his cheek and continued the tease (now having gone on 90 minutes!)
gently tickling the nails around the tip of the glans.

Unlike other blue-collar Italian girls, I didn't have to go have
fake French nails pasted on me at some shop; since I do nothing
around the house, and don't type for a living anymore, my nails are
naturally long...Johnny takes care of all that cleaning and cooking
and financial support nonsense. "Just keep your beautiful hands soft
and those great nails intact, baby." he always tells me, his cock
hardening at the thought of the vicious and nasty teases I've put him
through.

But then, suddenly, I'd checked my watch and dropped Johnny's cock,
and went out to get the ice from the fridge. Johnny hates the
horrific freezing of 7-Eleven bagged ice smushed all over his crotch,
the wetness stays for hours, but it was the only way I'd ever been
able to get his dick back into the damn chastity cage. You see, the
chastity cage only allows for partial erections, which means Johnny
looks away from the secretaries down on K and Fourteenth when he's
going to his ritzy job.

But Johnny was astonished. Why was I stopping now? Unlike weaker
women whose hands tire after 20 minutes of teasing, I could go like
the Energizer Bunny! Usually I'd tease him for five or six hours
til I went to sleep, leaving him frustrated next to me in bed (fun
waking up and touching it a bit at 2 a.m. to wake him up a bit) or
I'd bind his hands and feet together and put him in a corner, where
he'd attempt to rub his dick against the wall, dry-humping in the
vain hope of an orgasm. This is actually rather humorous to watch; I
must get a webcam!

But why was I stopping? "Honey what's wrong? You're not quitting now,
are you, Susie?" Johnny looked terribly hurt, and his cock was
squirming and bouncing against the cage, as of course it was once
again quite hard. But I fed him Doritos with onion dip as he lay
cuffed next to me on the couch, and eventually the doorbell rang and
I let Andre in, a tall, muscular Russian artist with rivulets of
black hair spilling across his shoulders. My cousin Estelle was a
receptionist at his gallery, and had told me what a wondrous dick he
had. Johnny is a sweet man, but he's only five eight, and kinda
pudgy, and a girl needs her eye candy sometimes!

I rubbed my hand inside Andre's shirt, as he gazed with the usual
male stupefaction at my generous cleavage I got him a Heineken and
sat him down, explaining about my husband in his wig and heels. Andre
was horrified to learn that Johnny had to wear the cage and hadn't
cum in nearly 3 months. I think Andre gets laid every 3 hours. And
then I unzipped Andres pants and began the blowjob. Billy Holliday
was playing on the stereo and the lights were low, and I put Andre's
huge cock in my mouth, and began licking the head slowly. Circling
the glans with my tongue, I moved down a bit…watching Johnny
Cumbucket out of the corner of my eye.

And was Johnny Cumbucket pissed! My husband knows that I fool around,
but I'd never sucked a guy off in front of him. He'd been forced to
fellate a few in front of me, but I suppose that doesn't count, does
it ? He was also terribly humiliated in his wig and make up and cage
and of course the damn heels. Andre had given him such a look of
withering contempt! As I licked and sucked Andre, Johnny's dick was
getting harder and harder, pushing against the cage as he watched my
full lips and long, pink tongue slurping all over Andre's cock. "ooh,
baby" I mumbled around the penis. "Baby, baby, you are so hot!" I
kissed the sides of the cock and gently bit the foreskin…again and
again. Poor Johnny is circumcised, and I rarely get to taste a
decent foreskin, you know?

After I'd been blowing Andre slowly for about 20 minutes, Johnny's
cock was pushing miserably against the bars of his little cage. I'd
had this cage made especially with the understanding that only a
partial erection could flower. Thus his dick was squirming and
bouncing like a trapped anaconda! He just couldn't stop getting hard.
My tongue is a cutie, and my boobs of course were almost falling out
of the brassiere. At some point I straightened up, and undid the
catch on my bra, and my boobs popped out, the brown nipples rock
hard, and Andre played with them and sucked a bit, a privilege I
almost never grant Johnny. He isn't allowed to touch my boobs except
at Christmas, if he's given me a decent present. He was just put out,
my hubby was. He'll tell you guys the rest!

Johnny's version

I am glad I get to have my say, Susie! Susie is right in absolutely
everything, though I know the EXACT amount of days I'd been denied an
orgasm, seventy six. 76 long, painful days my cock had been repeatedly
teased by Susie and her cousin Estelle, and other evil dommes like DC
Stargazer, who is a member of our group at Blue Balls. Susie had done
it all to my dick in that time—slow, luxurious teases, teasing and
then hitting—that's horrible, folks. Imagine your dick being stroked
and teased by a beautiful woman with incredibly long nails (I buy
each nail a piece of jewelry for her birthday) stroke stroke…and then
when I got too hard, and was bucking to come, Susie would take her
school ruler or a fly swatter and beat it back into flaccidity. And
then begin the tease anew…ooh!

After every tease, I'd be locked back into the horrible cage and sent
off to work.

And every morning I'd be locked back up in that motherfucking cock
cage, and my dick would squirm and twitch again and again against the
damn bars. All day long, trying not to look at hot young secretaries
in their damn spring dresses. Some lucky slave-boys at least get to
be milked, to reduce the pressure. But it's my wife's firm belief
that if a cock is teased often enough, the precum will push out all
the back logged sperm. This, of course is ridiculous, but don't
believe the one who minored in biology and chem., just trust the
beauty school dropout. (she'll really whip me for that comment, eh?)

Susie is not generous with my supervised masturbation orgasms—the
last time I came was an accident, actually, and before that it had
been several months. So my dick was just pumped FULL of semen and
watching those full lips around Andre's cock got me so hot. I recall
that when we were even a normal vanilla couple, Susie never sucked me
like that, it was usually a reward even then—and she acted as if she
were licking a triple scoop Cookie's and Cream on the cone!

Scratches and blisters began raising on the various parts of my
struggling erection as I watched my beautiful wife suck this artist
twerp, and her tongue, slurping the head of his cock drove mine wild!
My dick was pushing and pushing against the evil bars of the damn
thing, and it's against Nature, you know to keep it back. Susie has
often teased me in the cage to make the torture start with the rising
cock—she's done strip teases, and tied me in front of a long porn
tape while she went shopping—but there was nothing like this, and my
cock was just in constant pain! And precum was splattering all over
the bars, as well. I tried to look away, but just couldn't. I have to
confess that I burst into tears when Susie let Andre suck on her
breasts.

It was just too much, watching Andre's lips all over my wife's
beautiful tits. I'd noticed Susie's boobs first before I asked her
out, but it had been nearly two months of dating before she'd allowed
me to touch and kiss them, and a year before we slept together,
because, of course, she'd slept with all these guys who'd taken
advantage of her, and she had to be careful. What was maddening, was
she'd occasionally still sleep with the guys, the bad ones, who had
destroyed her, so to speak, into our engagement! But back to Susie's
lovely breasts. After Susie had found my "Leg Tease" and "Submit"
magazines, and we'd begun to role-play now and then, she began using
my focus on her breasts for power.

One day she told me that I couldn't touch her breasts because they
were tender just then; could I wait a week? That week she'd spent in
miniscule, low-cut tops and sweaters, brushing by me, and bending
over so the old cleavage was right there. One night in front o f the
TV, she sat down wearing just a beige bra and told me "you can touch
my honeysa gain, they're feeling better…" I had lunged for them, but
after a moment of kissing and slurping, Susie had interrupted
me. "Johnny, get me abeer, please?"Anything. After she'd gotten the
beer, for the first time in her blue-collar life, she wanted a glass
to pour it in…so I'd gone back for that, my cock bouncing about (but
not yet caged-that was later)

Then when I'd asked her if I could take off the bra, she wanted a
sandwich. Not that I make one, but drive five miles to Alfie's Deli
and bring it back. Finally after waiting patiently for her to
consumer her sandwich and beer, I'd begun kissing again and Susie had
said "Baby, could you…" "Honey, please"I'd mumbled against her
heaving cleavage "Can't you just let me kiss them uninterrupted?" And
Susie had given me a resounding slap on the face and gone to bed,
leaving me horny, resentful and hard. I wasn't allowed to touch her
breasts again for a month, and only that after I bought her a new CD
player for her car.

And now it was only every few months…Christmas and my birthday, I
could kiss her pretty breasts, for about ten minutes, before I was
pushed away, wailing. I am now of course Susie's complete slave,
which is theoretically what I want, but how I miss those soft,
heaving pillows of hers…often she won't let me see her even
undressed! But she wears every snug sweater, every Lycra product,
every crop top she can find, just to remind me what she has!

Andre and Susie looked at me in disgust when I began weeping. "You-
you never let-me-never let me kiss your breasts, but you let him!" I
sobbed. "I can stand your blowing and screwing these guys but…but"
Still, my cock was rock hard, or as hard as it could be in that
horrible cage thing. And Susie was looking at my cock, and
laughing. "Oh, I thin k you can stand it, or your dick can. You're so
much harder being denied my breasts than you were sucking
them. "Please…please" I wept, and the mascara on my eyes leaked long
black streams down my face so I looked like I was staring out of a
jail cell.

Susie, the heartless bitch laughed. "Beg, you loser, beg!" Andre
laughed. "Why do you marry such a pitiful man. Is he good provider?"
Susie snorted before bending down to Andre's crotch. "Yeah of money
cars…but he doesn't provide much weiner, God no!"

And they laughed anew. And I burst into fresh tears…oh, was it
painful. Besides my raw cock, puzzled that it could not become erect
against the cruel metal bars, I was so humiliated to be crying in
front of this artist doofbag, I'd been a frat-boy turned financial
analyst, and we'd always made fun of the artistic types. And now one
of them was getting blown by my wife! Susie continued to suck Andre's
cock, and he began balling up bits of paper and throwing them at me,
as I continued to cry. Suddenly I began getting mad, too. This was my
house. This was my wife. I loved S/m fantasies, but it was going too
far now. I began banging my bound feet against the coffee table

Finally Susie took her mouth off Andre's dick. "What the hell are you
whining about? Shut up!" For a frightening moment, she looked and
sounded like her evil Italian mother. "Or I'll give you something to
cry about. But then the tantrum went on, and I began swinging my
locked legs on the floor and then they hit the coffee table and
Andre's beer fell on the floor and the bottle broke.

I'll leave Susie to tell the rest of the story:

From Susie: Well now, Johnny, I can tell the folks about your little tantrum, eh? “What the hell, Andre had gasped and I swear I nearly bit his dick in my mouth. I pulled up from my lovers crotch, my Italian-American eyes filled with rage. I snapped my bra closed again and stalked over to Johnny in my black bra, panties and heels, and boy were my breasts heaving! I can’t blame Johnny for being heartbroken that I won’t let him play with my breasts, but he’s a creepy-boy now…I only want real men touching them, and he knows it. “You know you’re not a man, like that one over there” I pointed a long nail at Andre, who was still quite upset.”You’ll touch my titties when Hell freezes over.” I grasped them and shook them at Johnny. “Now you’re going to pay for throwing a fit.”

Johnny looked up at me, his eyes real wide, and it was almost like he was a five year old who had gone too far acting up at Sears and knew Mommy was taking his pants down. “No, Susie…I was-just was upset—you were—I won’t do it again, please, please Susie, don’t beat me.” I kicked him right in the balls. “Susie is what you call me when you’re a good boy.” I hinted. “Please Mistress Susan, I’ll go to bed, I won’t bother you any more.” Johnny sounded really pitiful, but I was angry. I unlocked Johnny’s leg manacles, and pulled him up by the ear. “Get in the bedroom, now. I’ll be in in a bit

Johnny burst into fresh tears and teetered back into the bedroom, his hands manacled behind him. I went and sat on Andre’s knee and ruffled his luxurious dark hair, comparing it unfavorably to Johnny’s thinning hair and bald spot. Jeez, no wonder I make him wear a wig. I reached down and rubbed Andre’s right thigh, and his dick hardened, and I undid my bra clasp again. Andre put his face between my perfumed breasts, and kissed passionately.
“Why don’t you come in and help me make Johnny learn to obey…teach him a lesson. I bet you could hit him with that belt harder than I can…and I hit hard.” Andre, overcome with the image of hitting Johnny, sniggered into my breasts. I was planning to say “Then I’ll finish your blowjob” but then I had a different thought. After all, how did my hubby get the nickname Cumbucket? “Actually…”

I smiled at Andre,” let me finish blowing you now, and then you’ll get a second blowjob by someone-“I giggled “Far more experienced after we deal with Johnny. Okay, baby?” I gave Andre’s neck a long kiss. “I know you can help poor Johnny learn not to throw tantrums, right? By the way, he thinks all artists are wimpy fags.” Andre’s eyes gleamed, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. So I finished my blowjob, and I don’t doubt that Andre was blessedly unaware of who would be blowing him next…a girlfriend, perhaps? But he was quite happy. I sucked him off like I’d learned from Mickey Tattaglia in the alley near 120th and Amsterdam back in 1988.
So after Andre came in my soft little mouth, I swallowed, washed up and put on my tight striped shirt and faded jeans and stepped back into my high heels, explaining to Andre “Johnny’s been a bad boy, doesn’t deserve to see me in my lingerie…we’re going to kick his ass now, honey.” Andre grinned. “I don’t know, Susie, I am just a wimpy artist!” He flexed his chest, and it was something out of the Incredible Hulk. I thought of Johnny’s pot belly, and chuckled. Once in Johnny’s room we saw that Sir Cumbucket was kneeling on the hard floor by the bed with his hands still cuffed behind him. He could have lay on the bed, or knelt on the throw rug in front of him, but he chose the floor I guess, to show how submissive he was so I’d go easy on him. Right. Whatever.

I dragged Johnny up by his ear. Taking my key, I unlocked his chastity belt. “Lie on your back on the bed!” “Yes ma’am” Johnny said meekly, and he lay down, his cock sticking straight up. I took some Lubriderm from the night stand and rubbed it around my hands, and began stroking Johnny’s cock slowly. “You poor baby. Are you jealous of this bad man?” I winked at Andre, and began rubbing Johnny harder and faster, much faster than I had earlier this evening. Of course at that time I was trying to keep him from cumming, and I wanted him to think he was going to cum now, and did it work! Every time. Johnny closed his eyes and moved his fat little hips around, and he was nearly ready to squirt. I rubbed a little faster and silently motioned Andre to hand me the Licorice Whip, a nasty croppish thing, from the dresser.

WHACK WHACK WHACK Three right on the erect penis.Johnny opened his eyes and screamed. “Open your legs, honey.” I said sweetly. “Time to pay for the tantrum.”

Lifting the Licorice Whip I struck again and again, the split tip of the crop snapping right down on Johnny’s glans. He screamed as I continued. Finally I threw the whip down and picked up another implement. “Jesus that thing looks mean.” Andre said as I waved it around Johnny’s scared eyes. “This is cool. Johnny got it for me in Switzerland. It’s a solid leather strap with metal rivets on the end for added pain, and has a great swing!” I rose and smashed the rivets across Johnny’s cock and balls. “You try.” I handed it to Andre, who looked a little doubtful. “What’s wrong, you artist faggot” I whispered in his ear, and Andre began swinging the strap with intense vigor. WHACK it hit Johnny’s cock tip WHACK WHACK it hit his ball sac. I trotted into the living room and brought back Johnny’s leg manacles and locked him up, and then pulled his cock up so Andre could have a good shot at the balls. Still, Johnny’s cock hardened in my soft hand WHACK WHACK WHACK. It looked as if Johnny might pass out, so Andre threw down the strap, and chuckled.

I rolled Johnny over and whacked him a few times with my Spencer paddle, a thick fraternity type thing, with holes throughout to make it fly faster. Then I asked Andre for his belt. “How does that feel, my boyfriend’s belt on your pitiful behind?” I screamed and I let it go twenty or thirty times, and Andre looked a little doubtful. But what right did he have, he didn’t have a tantrum throwing runt hanging about his house! “Here’s the belt back.” I reached between Johnny’s manacled legs and pulled out his cock so it was sticking behind him. It was a bit limp, so I stroked until it became hard again, and leaned down, whispering in Johnny’s ear “It’s not over yet, Precious, but be a little man for Mommy wont you?” At first Johnny couldn’t hear me, he was crying so hard, but finally he nodded, sniffling. I picked up my English Tawse, a vicious slapper made of two heavy leather pieces, side by side. It was two feet wide and about eighteen inches long, and Andre and I took turns trying to hit Johnny’s cock between his legs. About 40 of mine hit Johnny’s cock and the rest his butt and legs, and only seventeen of Andre’s got the mark, but he hit a lot harder, of course.

Finally Johnny’s bottom was a mass of purplish welts, slashes and other distinguishing marks. And to wrap it up, Andre got his second blowjob, though in order to keep his cock hard in Johnny’s mouth, I had to let Andre kiss and suck my breasts for nearly half an hour. For 30 minutes poor Johnny knelt, still bound hand and foot, and sucked on Andre’s cock, until finally his mouth was filled with a heavy load of Russian goo… After this, Andre was still getting hard again, and confessed to missing the old cornholing days of his British boarding school. Although I usually didn’t make Johnny take sodomy, that night I bent him over. “No, please Susie.” He begged. “You promised to respect my limits, ma’am.” I snickered. “And how right you are. Shall we get the Tawse again?” Johnny shut up and stuck his butt out, and Andre slammed his dick home. I buzzed and Meade, the gay desk clerk came up with the hairdresser he was playing bridge with, and they both took a turn at Johnny’s bottom, thanked us, and went back downstairs. Black gay men are so much fun!

And then Andre and I went to bed, and Johnny slept on the floor, manacled until we unlocked him to make us breakfast in the morning! At that time I held him by the ear and made him thank Andre “I th-thank you, S-sir (sob) f-for helping Mommy make me a b-better boy!” Johnny couldn’t go on much past that, and burst into hysterical sobs, so we locked him in the closet, threw out his pitiful meal and went to brunch at the Marvelous Market. Later on that day, I allowed Johnny to finally masturbate to orgasm, he’d been denied at that time 103 days, and he licked it up while Andre and I watched and made encouraging remarks…and then, limp, he was forced to suck Andre again, which was infinitely worse…oh well!




 
  Punctuality

John must be at home every night at seven o'clock. His practice
generally ends at five-thirty...he's a dentist and the work is over
then. We live twenty minutes away. Allowing him half an hour to do a
bit of paper work and fifteen minutes or so to play grab-ass with
his nurse (that is a joke, John) He should be in the house EASILY by
six-forty-five.

John does enjoy gabbing with his neighbors in the medical building,
and occasionally harassing the metermaids in the parking lot. He can
do that in the ten to twenty minutes after leaving his office.

True,
he doesn't have lunch hours to do that, because he has to come home
and make my lunch, and pleasure me a bit (I worry that I am a sex
addict) and perhaps do a bit of vacuuming before heading back to
work, but I am somewhat kinder in the evenings.

As John is quite a social man, he was saddened when I requested him,
as a condition of his slavery, so many years ago, to relinquish his
poker night, golf outings with his partners, tennis matches, and
hunting trips.

But he was desperate for me to enslave him, and he
agreed to these terms, so I give him a good 20 minutes to talk to
one or two people after leaving his office.

I keep hoping he'll try
and have an affair, and when the girl sees his chastity belt, she
kicks him off the motel waterbed!

One evening, about a year ago, I had to wait til 7:04 for him to
walk into the house. There was a kitchen and living room to clean, a
roast chicken cooling in the fridge, my spot to be pleasured while I
watched the news, and this is a tough time for me…no real sex as
Raul revoked his parole!!!

I need John now. I demand that dinner be
on at seven-thirty…how was that to happen? So I sat there. Me. The
blonde that he begged for a dance at a Wellesley mixer in 1978.

What do you think? Of COURSE I took his pants down and whipped his
rear end when he got in.
Did he try to fight it? Of course he did. As soon as the car pulled into the driveway, I could see him rehearsing his pathetic speech. Then he ran into the yard and up the steps and opened the door. And there I was, angry and implacable in a formidable black dress, tapping my Spencer paddle into my hand.

"Take off your jacket and pull down your pants."
John shook his head, "Helen...Evilmommie, what's wrong? Have I upset you?"

I stood up. and swung the paddle a few times.
"Now John, you were four minutes late...I've been sitting here for FOUR MINUTES. The house isn't cleaned, are you going to cook the chicken?." John looked haplessly at me as he took off his white dentist's jacket and placed it on the chair. "Helen, I...I was just stopping to talk with Officer Melinda for a moment.

And I did discuss an important ticketing issue with her...it's my lot you know," he added importantly. This was true. John had a half interest in the medical building.

I pretended to relent, and I smiled. John is so easy to flatter, and he loves to strut about." You are a good looking devil, even after over twenty years of marriage! Really, did you enjoy talking with her, you old scoundrel?" John preened and said "Yes, she told me that my tie was quite debonair. I complimented her on her skirt and..."

"So you wasted my time. MY TIME. Take down your pants."
John began pouting and his lip trembled. "But, I don't feel like I spent that much time out, I'm home nearly every night on time, and I clean and cook, please..."
"Down with the pants, John. I was just going to give you 20 with the paddle, but now I'm thinking of the razor strop as well."
John pulled his pants and undies down, mumbling weakly to himself.

I unlocked the chastity belt to see if his
penis looked like it had been getting hard, which would mean a long
conversation with the metermaid. Yes. He'd had quite
a conversation. She
thinks he's debonair.
I stroked and toyed with John's little member for a bit, my long French nails tickling the head unmercifully.

I was wearing one of those tight white negligee-ish tops, with a plunging neckline embroidered in little roses, as I stroked Johnnie, he kept gazing into my glorious cleavage,which of course was just bursting out of the snug top. I scolded him and breathed heavily, and he watched my boobs in the embroidered frame, and they bounced up and down.

"Evilmommie doesn't like her big boy to show up whenever he likes..." I whispered, gently nudging John's head closer to my cleavage. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, and I think it was appearing around John's lips as well.

John is not often allowed to touch my breasts, and I truly enjoy wearing these ridiculous tops (for an old lady like me!) as they make him quite attentive. "Baby boy...Mommie is going to cane you hard for all this tardiness, you know. Are you listening to Mommie or just staring at her boobies?"
John got harder and harder, though he was clearly humiliated, standing there with his pants down to his ankles.

"Don't you think, honey, that you should focus your superb conversational abilities on your loving wife?" As I said wife, I quit teasing his frenum and pinched it quite hard between my long nails, and John shrieked.
"Bend over the goddam couch..." John looked hopelessly unhappy, and bent over the couch. I got my Evilmommie Bamboo Special #2, the whippiest cane in my arsenal and whacked away, as I lectured him.

"Yes sir (whack) I just love (whack) having you lollygag (whack whack) around the parking lot (whack) near your office(whack whack) talking to some pathetic little bimbo ticket writer..." I flailed at Johnnie's bottom until it was rather purple, and then

I ordered him to stand up and turn around. I resumed my massage of his little weiner, and it began getting quite stiff again. I leaned into John and whispered huskily in his ear."I know a tough,sexy guy like you has a lot of needs, Johnny...what a handsome fellow you are, a big stud with the metermaids..."

Johnnie was crying from the beating he'd just endured, but his penis grew large and stiff in my soft pink fingers. "Do you know why I get so upset...it's because I'm jealous, darling. I have a plan for you...why don't you run into the bedroom, and strip and come out with the handcuffs and a blindfold."

John stumbled into the bedroom excitedly and burst back out naked with one of my scarves and the handcuffs. I tied the blindfold around his neck and cuffed his hands. "I know it's been a long time since you came, John."

I crooned, rubbing my velvety hands across his straining shaft. John looked rather pitifuil standing with his legs spread and his cock sticking out moving his head back and forth, trying to see under the scarf. "It's been such a long time, and I know you want to cum badly...I feel generous tonight." John's breathing became ragged with this bit of information. "Tell me, do you want to cum now?" I stroked around his balls with my nails, and John gritted his teeth.

He knew there were dire penalties for cumming without permission. "Yes ma'am..if that's what you want." John added diplomatically. "I'm...so horny...it's been a long time...and I am so sorry I'm late..but maybe if I'd cum, I wouldn't be so horny and want to talk to the metermaid."

John smiled cleverly when he said this, and I was amazed at his stupidity. Yes, that's going to make your middle-aged wife very happy, the idea that you are sexually enthralled by the metermaid..."Well, Johnny.."

I kissed his neck, and pulled on his cock a bit more "I can see your point, babe. It's rough being so celibate, isn't it? I can see why you'd get so horny by the metermaid, rather than poor, fat old me."

Now John said his brilliant point...this one was precious. "Oh, you don't need to lose that much weight, babe." Can you believe he said that? The proper response, not that I would've relented and let him cum was, "you are beautiful just as you are, Evilmommie."

But I bit my tongue and kissed his ear. "That's great advice, darling. Maybe I'll find out where the metermaid does her aerobics, and do them with her. Are you ready to cum? Stick out your dickie, honey." John smiled confidently under his blindfold and stuck his dick out as far as it could go, and I raised the whippy cane and lashed WHACK WHACK WHACK "Think I'm fat, do you?"

I screamed WHACK WHACK WHACK John began running blindly around the room, stumbling over a footstool, I caught up with him and gave his squirming bottom a few cuts, and he rolled away from me. "You don't mind a little criticism from old fatso, do you Johnnie? You should be late as often as possible, obviously!"

The cane landed again and again leaving welts all over John's body, it was almost impossible for him to rise, as his hands were cuffed behind him, so there was no balance, and of course he couldn't see anything. He bumped his head hard on the coffee table as I slammed the cane down repeatedly on his cock and balls.

John's legs were shaking about like a baby's about to be diapered, and I whacked away at his genitals, as he continued to squirm on the floor. Finally, I picked him up by the ear and kicked him down the basement steps and shut the door.

Later on, after he cleaned the house, cleaned me and
given me my dinner, I locked John in the bathroom, putting him in
the bathtub bound up with his penis in a large, secured plastic bag.
I made John drink six quarts of water, and went to bed. I left the
bright light on so he could consider his sins, and took all
the "Barrons" magazines out of the bathroom so he had nothing to
read.

For John, this is real torture, sitting for hours, to say
nothing of peeing in a bag. and he really couldn't read anyway, as
his hands were tied.

At two a.m., I got up and there he was, crying, exhausted and the
bag was quite full to bursting with his urine. And I'm afraid there
was a little Hershey squirt beneath my debonair husband! "Belly up,
my debonair prince." I said as I bent down in my sexy negligee and
lay the bag precariously in his arms…then I poked it with a kitchen
knife and stood back and the urine splashed all over the poor
darling, who burst into fresh tears.


"What do you think Officer
Melinda would think of you now?" I said sweetly, and went back to
bed. I did turn the light off in the bathroom at that point so he
could get some sleep in the tub, in all that stinking piss…

Do you know that he's not been late coming in since then? Not even
two minutes (we see what happened when it was four minutes, eh ?)
Yes, Punctuality is important to me, I'm afraid.


 
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
  JULIE'S TRIUMPH BOOK TWO
Chapter One
Everett opened the closet door very softly, and crawled out on his
hands and knees towards the bedroom door. He looked quite unlikely in
this pose, a muscled aristocratic looking fellow with a military
Number One crewcut crawling on the floor in a pair of diapers.
Everett had commanded cadet troops at Pershing Military Academy as a
sixteen year old, then at West Point, before spending twenty-five
years as a military officer and consultant, and now president of his
own company, a firm known for rapacious corporate takeovers and tough
deals…Ev was feared in the military and business communities.

After Everett got through the door without waking the occupants of
the bed, he got up, and went to the bathroom before he remembered
that the door was locked, as was the lock on his diaper. Wincing,
Everett let loose, crapping in his pants. He hoped Julie, his lovely
wife of one year, would be kind enough to change his nappies before
eleven o'clock. The last rash Ev had suffered had been a nasty one.
Everett went into the kitchen and began preparing coffee and rolls
for Julie and Rajul, the man she'd brought home from the club the
night before.

Ev grunted. Although Everett would do anything his lovely wife
commanded, he had been astonished at how quickly This Negro fellow—
no, black—no they're called African Americans now, of course. The
man's black. Everett shook his head. He just couldn't believe how
quickly this black man had adjusted to being Everett's master for the
evening. Everett was certainly used to the drill. Julie would bring
some lowlife in disgusting clubbing clothes and long hair back to the
house, and Everett would come out, naked except for his plastic
banana shaped chastity tube, which fit neatly over his penis, with a
metal strap around the back of Ev's testicles.

Then Julie would introduce the astonished fellow to Everett, and
promise untold antics in bed, if the guy would help her dominate her
slave for an hour or two. Everett weighed two hundred and forty
pounds, every inch of it muscle, and perhaps was a bit frightening
looking…several of these fellows had regretfully declined, with one
last wistful glimpse at Julie's breasts, before leaving…Ev liked it
when this happened, because then it was he and Julie for the evening.
She would then have a little session with Everett herself, going over
the house to see how much cleaning he'd done while she was dancing
with her friends at the Raindrop or the Sombrero club, and discipline
Everett accordingly, usually fifty with the hairbrush on Everett's
bare bottom, his chastity tube pressing into her soft thighs, and
then another thirty-five with a razor strop as Everett lay over the
armrest of the couch, followed by twenty with the bamboo cane Ev had
brought back from Thailand.

Julie often complimented Everett on not making any sound, no matter
how vicious the whipping was or how many frighteningly reddish purple
welts jumped up on Everett's bottom cheeks and lower thighs. After
this, Julie would take Everett to her bed, after cleaning off his
corporal punishment wounds of course…these welts and blisters could
bleed a bit, and tie him spread eagled, his arms and legs splayed
across the bed, in four point restraints against the bed posts. Then
Julie would undo a few buttons on her blouse, so Everett could view a
bit of cleavage, or if she was in an especially good mood, she'd
strip to bra and panties…Everett paid Julie's account at Victoria's
Secret, but usually he didn't get to see her underwear as often as
her boyfriends did, and almost never did Everett see Julie
completely naked. When Ev performed oral sex on Julie, or assisted
her in the bath, Julie always wore her bra or a bikini top, as she
said Everett couldn't "handle" too much of a good thing. This was
tough for Everett, but he treated his wife like a lady…and would do
whatever she liked out of respect.

Then Julie, either with unbuttoned blouse or lacy bra and panties,
would unlock Everett's plastic chastity tube, and set it aside, and
begin playing with Everett's penis and testicles, taking her time, of
course. First was the "dry massage" where Julie would just rub her
hands all over Ev's genitals, very lightly. Everett liked watching
Julie's long nails playing along his stiffening shaft, scraping
lightly around the glans before tiptoeing back down to the scrotum.
Julie's hands were incredibly soft and this was so comforting to
Everett, in spite of his sexual frustration…she never did housework,
he looked after that department, and used special creams to keep her
hands looking like a sixteen year olds.

After a half hour of the dry massage, Julie would squirt some
lubricant on her palms, and begin the "wet tease" This went on for an
hour or two, and was less complex than the dry…Julie would grip
Everett's cock at the base and rub up and down it, while massaging
even more oil into his engorged testicles (As Everett did not cum
often, his balls were usually quite full of unused backed-up semen.)
This would go on for an hour or so, Everett bucking and thrusting
against Julie's energetic fingers, his tongue in his teeth and his
eyes closed, except of course when he was staring at bouncing breasts
in the tight-fitting brassiere. Julie's general motion was ten quick
rubs with her circled fingers, and then ten very slow pulls up and
down Everett's purple-thrusting cock.

It was Everett's responsibility, to keep from cumming during these
sessions…Everett had very occasional masturbation times when he was
allowed to jerk himself into a shot glass and drink up the spooge
(and it was fifty with the strap if the sperm missed the glass and
hit the carpet) But Everett must never, never finish in Julie's hand.
He was in diapers this morning for just that offense…Ev had come
involuntarily in Julie's hand during a six-hour tease last Wednesday,
and had earned himself a fortnight in the diaper, whenever of course,
he wasn't at work….Generally Everett could hold back his release…
Julie would go through the "wet tease" for quite some time…

Finally Julie would stop, Everett was a stoic fellow, but quite often
he would entreat her to continue just a little longer "even if I
can't have a release, ma'am…" Julie would then go to the kitchen, and
get an ice cube, and rub Everett's penis down—and what a sensation it
was against the cold lubricant!—until it was small again. And then
Julie would replace the plastic tube, after she'd washed it out a
bit. After this, Julie would strip to just her bra, and Everett,
untied but locked up again, would give Julie a long, comforting
massage, and then an hour or so of cunnilingus. And then Everett, if
he'd brought his Mistress to the required five orgasms, would be
allowed to climb into the bed, and Julie would fall asleep in his
strong arms. Otherwise, he slept in the closet.

This was Saturday night for them when Julie came home alone…but more
often then not, Julie would bring home a guy…and then Everett
would "get it" Julie would ask the guy to give Everett a few with the
cane or the strop, promising the guy a blowjob if he could make
Everett cry…no one had gotten a blowjob yet, Ev thought with pride.
He had learned to take pain in silence from his governess, Miss
Truncheon, forty years before.

After this, Julie would remove Ev's plastic tube, and cuff his hands
behind his back, give herself and the guy crops, and set up
clothespins along the ridges of Everett's cock, balls, stomach and
nipples and she and the young man (they were all young, averaging
about twenty-five) would take turns knocking the painful wooden
clamps off Ev as he stood at attention with his legs apart, to give
the crop-swingers good aim.

It hurt Everett so much to see these slime balls with Julie, and he
just couldn't understand why they couldn't have every Saturday night
together, just the two of them. Usually, it took every ounce of self-
control to keep from kicking the hell out of these guys…After the
clothespin torture, Julie would often cuff Everett to an eye hook in
their basement dungeon that had been installed in Everett's house
after their marriage three years before. Everett found it horribly
humiliating when Julie and whoever her Saturday night number was
would take turns whipping his bare ass and thighs with belts and
switches as he hung helplessly from the ceiling. Everett would be
then taken down and put in the bedroom closet to enjoy the spectacle
of his wife screwing a club boy…

This morning, Everett carried the breakfast tray, laden with cut
melon, omelets, croissants, coffee and orange juice, into the
bedroom, where he set it on a tray. Rajul was lying with his long
black arm across Julie's chest, and both were snoring. Everett was
disgusted. If he'd had Rajul in his troops during the Vietnam or
Desert Storm, this bum would have spent most of his duty scrubbing
latrines. What an attitude…and drugs. The fellow actually smoked
marijuana with Everett's precious Julie…his beautiful wife. But now
Everett had his duty to do, and he'd better do it damn well. Everett
shook Julie awake gently.

"Miss Julie?" Ev whispered. "It's ten o'clock." Julie's lovely cat-
like green eyes opened, fluttering lashes, and she smiled, reaching
up to touch Everett's cheek. "Good morning, darling…how was it in the
closet last night?" Julie smiled and stretched, but was careful not
to wake Rajul just yet. "It was fine, ma'am…" Ev said, although his
back and shoulders ached from sleeping on the wardrobe floor. "I hope
you and…" Julie smiled "Master Rajul?" she said lightly. Everett
winced. "Master Rajul, yes, I hope you and Master Rajul slept well
last night…if you're ready, I'd like to give you your morning
tribute." Julie nodded, smiling sleepily, and Everett crawled onto
the bed and under the covers, moving his head between Julie's
legs. "Wha-whassup?" Rajul began stirring. "Don't worry, Rajul.
Diaper-boy is just going to give me my morning tribute."

Everett began licking between Julie's legs. At first it was
disgusting—he had to clean all of Rajul's blasted semen out of her
clitoris, cleaning it thoroughly with his tongue. It had been hard
the first time Ev had had to swallow another man's semen from his
wife's vagina, but he was learning the trick fairly well. After Ev
had cleaned out the semen from Julie's pussy, which he'd trimmed the
previous evening, just before she went to the Purple Sombrero, and
then Everett pushed his head right in deeper, and licked her to her
three morning orgasms before she shoved his head back. "That's
good,sweetheart." Julie smiled. "Now you can go clean up the kitchen
while Raj and I have our tray here…" Rajul looked at Everett as Ev
pulled his grizzled head out from under the covers. "Why not me?"
Rajul looked at Julie, annoyed. "Why not you what, Rajul?"Julie
asked. "Why he don't give me a tri-bute, Julie? Mah dick could use a
lickin, couldn't it? You said I was his Master."

Everett was revolted. Certainly Julie would throw this imbecile out
now…after all that had gone on last night, and this spear chucker
wanted homosexual relations? Ev waited for Julie to set Rajul
straight. But Julie looked at Rajul, and then at Everett, and
smiled. "Why not? It's about time for your first blowjob, Ev…we've
taken you through everything else, haven't we?"
Chapter Two

"N-no, I can't, Miss Julie." Everett was trembling. He'd put up with
so much in the last five years. After Julie had introduced Ev to his
new role, she'd stopped letting him have sex with her entirely, after
they'd consummated their marriage on her wedding night. Ev was
allowed to have an orgasm about once every six to eight weeks, with
his hand, on his knees…and he accepted this, and his roster of
housework, and the corporal punishment…he had to admit he liked the
teasing and denial, and enjoyed having pressure taken off him after a
day of hostile takeovers and firing bad salesmen. Being Julie's
submissive had been good for the grizzled old ex-colenol. But this…
this was disgusting. Everett couldn't suck a penis, much less a black
man's penis. No. It just wouldn't work out. "I'm sorry, Miss Julie,
it's just too much." Ev was about to climb off the bed, when Julie's
soft hand touched his arm.

"Everett?" Julie smiled coquettishly. "Darling, Mommy would never
make you do something she didn't think you were up to…" Everett shook
his head vigorously. "It's not that I'm not up to it, ma'am. I just…
it's disgusting." Rajul looked at Ev in a rage, but he stayed where
he was. Rajul weighed about one hundred thirty-five pounds, and was
rather spindly from a diet of drugs, potato salad and 40-ouncers of
King Cobra Malt. He was still a bit nervous about having given this
frightening bodybuilder-Army guy a whipping the night before…and he
certainly wasn't going to push this suggestion. Julie kept smiling at
Everett. "Honey…after all I do for you…I know you want to please Miss
Julie, don't you?" Everett's eyes watered. "And I know" Julie said
pleasantly, "That you don't want to wear that wet, shitty diaper all
day, do you sweetheart?"

Everett was not sure how it happened, but within five minutes, he was
kneeling between Rajul's legs, as Raj sat on the edge of the bed.
Rajul had gained courage now, though he wondered what it was with
these crazy white men. If a bitch told him to do that to another
brother, Raj would shoot both of them into next week. Rajul laced his
fingers on the back of Everett's head, and began pushing Ev's head
closer, as Ev's mouth opened wider, and Rajul's cock sank deep in
Ev's mouth. Julie, ever helpful, leaned over the bed in her adorable
sky blue teddy and gave casual instruction. "That's right, Everett.
Open wide. WIDE. There you go, now—no, don't cough, that's not a turn
on for Rajul. Try to lick the underside of his cock with your tongue,
I remember that worked well during my first blowjob back in tenth
grade..I remember Sally Russell demonstrated with a banana…take it
in, Everett, lick the bottom…you're doing so well!"

Everett's eyes watered more, and sweat poured down his brow, as Rajul
jammed his cock in and out of Everett's mouth. Looking up, he could
see Julie's amused face peering over the side of the bed. Everett
tried to concentrate—"OW!" Rajul pulled his cock out of Everett's
mouth. "What's wrong, honey?" Julie asked Raj sympathetically. "That
motherfucker bit me!" Rajul screamed. Julie looked over at Everett,
who was cowering and apologizing "It was an accident…" Julie shook
her head and smiled. "Sweetheart, I think you need more training."

Chapter Three

It was such a struggle for Everett to maintain his chastity. This, of course is why he wore the stifling, banana shaped tube. Yet, the reason his orgasms were so far apart was partially because of Ev’s pride. Julie had first put the chastity tube on Everett five years before, when she became concerned that he was masturbating between their times together. This was understandable, considering that Julie only let Ev screw her every once in a while, and occasionally let him masturbate after an evening of wining, dining, massaging and orally servicing her. Everett thought masturbation a disgusting habit, Miss Truncheon his governess had always said so…and punished him rightly for it.



And Ev had never really needed to jerk himself off. He’d never been short of dates…even in the all-male bastions of military school and West Point, there’d always been a housemaid or two. Julie was sending a double message, with teasing Everett beyond belief during their dates, and then sending him home frustrated…calling Ev at work to talk dirty to him…and then demanding he stay pure. How could he? Thinking of her gorgeous cleavage, 40 DD breasts with nipples poking through near transparent pink sweaters, her long legs emerging from tight skirts…and Julie usually wore seamed stockings or sometimes fishnets, and mile-high spike heels—she knew Everett loved that.



Of course it was hell trying to stay celibate after an evening of necking with Julie. Everett got quite horny having her play with his crotch or even suffering being tied down by Julie and stroked for hours. Julie’s nails would bring Everett’s cock head to new and different colors…once she had painted her nails a magenta color, and observed that Everett’s glans had changed to the same color! When Everett got too excited, often Julie would snap a nail against his glans…and the nails never broke because they weren’t press-ons, they were real. After several hours of long, tormenting strokes, Julie would untie Everett and ask him to dress and leave…and how could he help jerking off after that—in the car, back at home, in his private lavatory at work…thinking of that incredible girl!

So Julie had finally put Ev in a chastity device—nothing else had worked. She’d tried whipping his penis with a coat hanger, cuffing Ev’s genitals to a blistering space heater, and pushing his flaccid ball sac between a door and its hinges, and opening and shutting the door rapidly. Julie had cuffed Ev to the ceiling eye hook and tied a bucket to his cock and balls, filling it now and then with water until it nearly pulled his genitals to the ground… She’d put Ben-Gay and hot peppers on a Q-tip and stuck it in the little snake eye of the glans, thrown darts at Ev’s wee-wee, and forced Ev to sit for several hours in an ice-cube filled bathtub.



But finally the tube was placed on Everett’s dick, and Julie kept the key to the little lock. When Everett had to go abroad, or anywhere where he’d be exposed to a metal detector, Julie would replace the tiny padlock binding his sheath with a plastic garbage bag tie thing…if she found it snapped open when Ev came back, he was in for more cock and ball torture. And this plan worked. Everett had not had an unauthorized orgasm after that. Usually once a week or so, after four or five nights of teasing (Julie had moved in Everett’s place by now) Julie would unlock Everett’s tube and let him release himself into a dish…the days of sex were over between them, it seemed, and with all Ev had gone through with the groin torture, he was appreciative of the occasional jerk-off.



It was certainly difficult, being tied and teased nearly all the time, being teased in front of the television set…Ev would be cuffed naked on the couch as Julie stroked his penis mercilessly during the shows…then she would quiz Ev on the plots, and if he couldn’t answer correctly, over her knee he went! Everett had never been good at memorizations…he’d had trouble with Miss Truncheon, his governess over this, and her urgings were similar to Julie’s…While most of the younger kids in the neighborhood would watch “Bonanza” or “I Love Lucy” in the evenings, and older boys were driving around with their girls in convertibles, Miss Truncheon had believed that Everett was destined for higher things. Everett spent much of his leisure time from age ten on, memorizing the Old Testament, which Miss Truncheon believed was so important for a young man’s formation. But Ev’s governess, like his lovely wife later on, had little patience for a bad memory. Every Friday night, Everett would recite the verses that he’d learned throughout the week, when not studying or participating in school athletics…and unlike most teenage boys, Everett feared and loathed Friday nights.



“ How hath the Lord covered the daughter of Zion with a cloud in his anger,” recited Everett one night in his fourteenth year, as Miss Truncheon was taking him through the book of Lamentations. She made him stand right in front of her while he recited, and often it could take some time.



As he spoke, Everett held a spool of yarn between his hands that his beloved governess was rolling into a ball. “… and cast down from heaven unto the earth the beauty of Israel, and remembered not his footstool in the day of his anger!” Miss Truncheon nodded encouragingly. Everett was dressed in his “weekend play clothes”, a sailor suit with Donald Duck beret, blue shorts, high white socks and saddle shoes. During the week, Miss Truncheon made Ev wear a blazer and tie to school, which was humiliating enough, but at home at night and on the weekends, Miss Truncheon made Ev dress as he had when he was four—and it kept him tractable, she felt. Already that evening, one of Ev’s cousins had come by, asking if Everett could go play pool with him and his friends, and because Ev was in his sailor suit, he was too embarrassed to come to the door, and Miss Truncheon was able to get that naughty cousin away.



“Continue to recite, Everett.” Miss Truncheon said encouragingly. “ The Lord hath swallowed up all the…” Everett paused. He couldn’t remember. “all the…” Everett stared at Miss Truncheon, who was looking perturbed. “Everett, what’s wrong?” she asked in an annoyed voice. “Haven’t you been studying this week?” Miss Truncheon was in her forties, but still looked like the runway model she had once been, in spite of her dark blue sweater and skirt outfit. As she breathed in impatiently, her chest strained against the low cut sweater, and Everett tried not to look, as it was distracting him terribly. “Please, please give me a hint, Miss Truncheon,” Ev begged.



Miss Truncheon smiled. “Well, all right…but it’s a trade…you have to give me one of your shoes.” Everett’s heart sank. He knew where this was going. Ev put down the yarn carefully, and untied one of his shoes, and handed it to Miss Truncheon. She smiled grimly and gave him a word “Habitations, “ Everett continued. “ The-the Lord hath swallowed up all the habitations of Jacob, and…have—“ “No!” Miss Truncheon stood up and slapped Everett’s face.



“Did you memorize or not this week, young man?” Miss Truncheon was only five six, and Everett was a strapping six two, but from the frightened look on his face, it seemed as if he were only two or three inches tall. “The-the Lord hath swallowed up all the habits---“ “HABITATIONS!” Miss Everett screamed. “I gave you that word already, Everett! Take off your other shoe and your socks, sir!” Tears came into Everett’s eyes as he removed his other shoe and his socks, handing them to Miss Truncheon. Usually if he missed a word, he only had to give Miss Truncheon one piece of clothing, but she was very angry tonight. “Now continue…and be very careful, sir.” Miss Truncheon laid her hand on Everett’s arm and gazed into his eyes. Everett knew that she was very angry if she referred to him as “sir.” Suddenly a few of the words came to him.



“… habitations of Jacob, and hath not pitied: he hath thrown down in his—in his…” Everett was stuck again. How was he supposed to memorize an entire book of the Old Testament along with school and everything else?” “Everett, take off your short pants.” Everett sighed, and removed his sailor suit pants, and handed them to Miss Truncheon, who threw them on the floor impatiently. Now Everett was wearing his sailor hat, his sailor top, and a small pair of white underpants. They called his underwear “tighty whities” in the school locker room, but Miss Truncheon refused to buy Ev boxer shorts, saying they were obscene. “The word is wrath, Everett.” “wrath the strong holds of the daughter of Judge—“



Everett felt Miss Truncheon pinch his inner thigh. “The word is Judah, not JUDGE!” Miss Truncheon screamed. “Your hat and sailor shit, sir.” Everett removed his Donald Duck hat, and his sailor shirt, and handed them to Miss Truncheon. Now the school’s star quarterback, and captain of the baseball, track and wrestling teams was standing in front of his governess wearing only a pair of “tighty whities” “wrath the strong holds of the daughters of Judah; he hath brought them down to the ground: he hath polluted the kingdom and…” Everett’s lower lip came out, and he began looking very sad. “Is that all you can remember, dear?” Miss Truncheon asked softly. “Y-yes ma’am.” Miss Truncheon held out her hand, and Everett pulled his underpants off and handed them to her, and then the star quarterback burst into tears and walked over to the arm of the couch and bent over it, his bare bottom sticking out prominently, as his governess went to fetch her hairbrush, her razor strop and her Malacca cane. “Obviously you need some incentive to study, my boy…”



Forty years later, the situation was the same, though he was now expected to memorize the plots and scripts of “Law and Order,” and “Boomtown”, and Julie used a Spencer paddle and a scourge…but the evenings were the same, and his memorization was still terrible.





In the mornings, after Ev brought Julie breakfast, she would tie him down and tease a bit more…and then lock him up and send him off to work…and work was a changed place when your dick was locked down…every passing 20 year old file clerk caused horrible spasms to Ev’s breadbasket. And of course Ev’s office was filled with clerks and secretaries in clinging blouses, teased blonde hair, and miniscule skirts. He’d hired most of them from Texas, his home state, and that’s how the girls were there.



But once a week he had an opportunity to orgasm, sometimes if Julie was in an extraordinarily good mood, she’d bring Ev off with her high heels…but the jerk off time was always there, until Everett’s pride got him. One night Julie and Everett were out to dinner with friends of hers, Daphne and Tom Marlin. The Marlins had a very similar relationship to Julie and Evs, except that Daph, a pert redhead, kept Tom locked up for two to four weeks, and was considering giving her husband a release date of once every two months.



“Daphne feels that I’m only spoiling her because of my orgasm” Tom had said, with a regretful smile. “I want her to understand that earning my orgasm is a distant second to how I feel about her. and I think I’m ready for less orgasms now.” Daphne had stroked Tom’s cheek with a pink nail, as her husband shifted somewhat uncomfortably in his chair…Everett guessed that it had been a while since Tom had had a release, and so every touch by his strawberry blonde partner was probably quite uncomfortable to his bulging, unfulfilled erection. After touching Tom’s cheek, Daph had dropped her hand to the inside of Tom’s thigh, at which time he rolled his eyes a bit in frustrated consternation. “What a man, huh, Julie?” Daphne chuckled. “He’ll go through anything for me.” Julie had smiled as well, and squeezed Tom’s hand, and Everett had taken all this rather badly.



At home, he’d broached the subject with his now-newlywed wife. “Dear, I think I could be like Tom. I have endurance.” “What do you mean?” Julie had asked pleasantly, pretending she didn’t know what Everett was talking about. At the time of their conversation, Everett was tied upside down on a large torture wheel on their dungeon wall, Julie was stroking his dick and blowing on the head. which she could do standing up, as of course the dick was facing her. My God, he’s a tall man, she thought, stroking the inside of Everett’s thigh. “Honey, I want you to know that it isn’t about my orgasm as well. though I love my masturbation times.” It was difficult for Everett to speak, as the blood was all rushing to his head, except of course the blood flowing through his dick as Julie’s cherry-red fingernails twiddled the shaft. At one point, Julie had leaned over and licked Everett’s ball sac, something she’d never done, and Everett’s entire body shook from desire. Everett was panting heavily. “Are you sure you could go on Tom’s regimen?” Julie looked down at Everett’s red, sweating face. “After all, he did a lot of work with the Peace Corps in Ghana before coming to DC to work for The Americans for Democrat Action.”



This enraged the ultraconservative Everett, as Julie had known it would. Like Ike Eisenhower, there was no challenge too big for her guy, it seemed. “I can damn well do it!” Everett stated hotly, and Julie leaned over and pushed a lever that pulled Everett’s head up and his legs down. Now he looked quite ridiculous, tied to the wheel like this with his poor cock sticking straight out. Julie leaned her arm down and began stroking slowly. “You know, baby…it took Daphne and Tom a long time to get to this point.” Julie had said. At this point, they’d only been experimenting with chastity for eight months. “I think that Tom got a weekly orgasm for nearly two or three years, then it went to biweekly—“ Everett snorted. “I can go from weekly to monthly right now!” He looked terribly firm, really just like Dwight Eisenhower, Julie considered.



END OF PART TWO



want more? Justincbenedict@yahoo.com


 
Friday, February 13, 2004
  JULIE'S TRIUMPH
Julie smiled at Everett over the candle lit dinner at Morton's Steak House. The grizzled, former Foreign Service officer, now an export magnate, caught Julie's eye and smiled right back. His brown, tanned hand traveled across the steak tartare and, reaching Julie's small fingers with their French manicure, squeezed them gently. Julie really liked Everett, and thought he seemed malleable. Most men were fairly malleable in Julie's hands; she was your traditional big-busted, full lipped type, with nearly white-blonde hair that hung in a sexy mane around her shoulders. The shipping millionaire was unlike many men that Julie had dated, in that Everett seemed to have a strong sense of self, and his interest in Julie was courtly, instead of begging and drooling.

Julie felt like she was being watched... she looked over at a nearby table, and there was Horace, gaping at her. Julie rolled her eyes at him. Yes, you pitiful dunce, I too, go to restaurants...I just don't spend my leisure time as I did with you this afternoon, she thought contemptuously. Horace had not had a release in 81 days, and he was still wearing his belt, though four hours ago Julie had had it off, and was making Horace's dick shake by tickling it with a greasy piece of dental floss, while he bounced helplessly against his handcuffs. And here Horace was, with his wife of fifteen years...obviously they hadn't slept together in at least a year and a half, or even showered together, she would've wondered about the Iron Maiden Julie had locked to Horace's crotch.

Julie dealt with two kinds of men--dates and potential relationship types, and then the clients she dealt with as a professional teasing and denial dominatrix. Julie, who worked for her friend Keri's tease denial, and key holder service provided a valuable commodity to a variety of men in the city, who would come and visit Julie at different times. Some of the men were married, or just wanted part-time teasing. These were the belt-less...they wore no chastity belts or devices.

Aaron was one of these. Aaron had a sweet girlfriend, and a lively life, but once a week, he'd come see Julie, giving her $500, and she'd tie him naked to a table, and play with his dick for several hours, moving her long, white tipped nails up and down Aaron's suffering shaft, before finally allowing him to jerk off. Then Aaron would leave, refreshed, and go back to his girlfriend until his peculiar desires brought him back the following week. Aaron did it for kicks, she thought, but liked Cumming too much, though he might graduate to wanting long term chastity. That did happen sometimes...

Horace was staring at her...trying to make his eyes moisture-ish. Julie was irritated as all hell. What was he staring at? Sure, she had her 40DD's stuffed into this little black strapless thing, but it was no more revealing than the corset she'd been wearing with him this afternoon. Horace was begging with his eyes for her to look at him. Horace had made the mistake of telling Julie that he wanted to have six months of teasing and chastity...he couldn't handle it, though. 81 days and he was a nervous wreck...but Julie would stick to her guns...Horace was a dramatic example of one of Julie's "belted" clients...the main recipients of her key holder service..she held the keys to their belts...A less intense version of a belted client than Horace, was Steven.

Steve was more of a typical "belted" client, one who came at least once every two months. Julie kept Steve in a metal chastity sheath at all times, except when it was his teasing time. All week long, Steve would go through his work, his other activities, with his penis thrusting against the cruel metal sheath...and then once a week he’d come see Julie, and the same ritual of stripping, binding and teasing would go on, but it was different, because Steve was far more desperate than Aaron was. The belt prohibited him from pursuing a separate relationship from Julie, who he paid $500 a visit, just for the chance to get the belt off, and have her play with his poor dick a bit. Steve not only didn't come during the week, but often didn't cum after the session was done...Julie allowed Steve to cum about once every six weeks, and usually that was after he'd visited her six times, and she'd pocketed three grand.

What was interesting was that Julie's suitors, boyfriend, and 2 ex-husbands had always been the rough-and-tumble guys--ex-cons, day laborers, addicts and the like. When Fernando came over, for instance, there'd be no chastity teasing for him--Julie would have all of her holes hit, Frank would demand two blowjobs, probably, and then he'd eat her cooking, borrow ten from her and take another fifty from her purse and bail off, his "BORN TO LOSE" tattoo a bluish-gray caboose on his back walking out. Julie loved Fernando, she'd rake his back as he pumped in her...but he wasn't husband material...Julie preferred hell-raising on a weekend basis, thank you...and neither were Steve or Aaron the pitiful slave-boys potential marriage material...too much of them would just be irritating.

Was there a happy medium between adoring slaves and insane redneck boys? It was a puzzle. What Julie liked about Everett was although he seemed quite enamored of her, he wasn't a drooler...he was polite and courtly. A regular weightlifter with 10 years in the military, Everett was at least as masculine as any man she'd ever met. In Julie's "straight" job as a fundraiser, Ev was the perfect escort to her various events, he danced like a charm...and took her to wonderful get togethers at the Officer's Club.

But-at fifty-two to Julie's thirty-three, Ev didn't really have the charge that Julie needed, though Ev was a fascinating companion, he pampered Julie constantly, and bought her gifts. She knew there was an engagement ring in the picture. But in their moments of passion...when Everett's penis entered Julie--it his penis felt like a foreign object, and not a particularly welcome one...he just didn't "ring her chimes". But he was too precious to let get away.

Julie was considering-- could she transform Everett into a slave? She thought Everett might be a great live in "Client" Julie could still receive all the pampering, the presents, etc. and give Everett valuable lessons in self-control, and bestow upon him the favors that many, many men had paid dearly for. Could she do it?

Chapter Two
She is a damn fine woman, Everett thought, as he knelt naked in front of Julie. I don't understand this submission business, but Julie is so sweet and charming. What the hell, if she wants me to kneel here for a bit, in the buff, while she stands there in her little black cocktail dress...ooh. Everett looked down, noticing that his member was getting quite stiff. That doesn't happen much anymore, he thought. The last time Everett had slept with Julie in the traditional way, she'd had to twiddle him a bit so he didn't lose his erection completely...Mid life does that to a man. But look how hard Little Johnny is now!

"So, Everett, you’re enjoying this?" Julie was looking down at Everett's stiffening penis. Everett was a bit embarrassed that she was still completely dressed tonight--stockings, heels, all of it--while he was naked as a jaybird. But God, she’s a beautiful woman! Look at that mane of blond hair! "Everett, why don't you come over here and sit on this kitchen stool for me?"

Everett tried to stand up, but Julie gently pushed him back down, and encouraged him to crawl to the stool and then climb up it. "Julie, honey, why not the LaZ-Boy, or the couch? This is not comfortable." Suddenly Everett was tied to the stool...his hands were roped together, and the rope was knotted to one of the stool legs, and then his feet were tied to the others. There was no back to the stool, so he had to sit up straight. "Honey, don't worry about the other furniture." Julie was leaning over and whispering in Ev's ear while her nails scratched the inside of his bare thigh. "You're a submissive tonight and you don't have to think about all that stuff...don't you get sick of worrying about everything? Mommy's lookin' after it for you." Julie gently took Everett's penis in her palm, and squeezed her fingers around it.

Everett had an excellent view into Julie's cleavage. it was almost sexier bunched in that little black dress than when she was nude! He was still terribly embarrassed by this predicament, being naked and tied to a kitchen stool, it reminded him of the prisoners he had interrogated in Laos, years ago. Julie's thumb and forefinger encircled Ev's dick while her palm rested on the little area of the stool still exposed between Everett's perspiring legs. As she whispered in his ear, Everett could smell her perfume, Chanel, he thought.” The regular furniture is for the grown-ups, sweetie." Julie leaned into Everett's neck, subtly pulling her dress down so the tops of her breasts bunched out of the cocktail dress into Everett's face. "That's for Mommy to entertain her company. Little boys have a nursery...and they eat in the kitchen." Notwithstanding that "Mommy" was 20 years his junior, Everett thought of his governess, Miss Truncheon, years ago.

Miss Truncheon had been damned strict at times--one slip in his lessons, or a tantrum, and she'd have him across her knee with the pants to his sailor suit down, whacking away with the heavy wooden spoon she kept in the purse. Several times she'd spanked him like this when they were at the playground, in front of the other mothers and children...and then Ev would be required to stand in the corner, his pants down, weeping. If he acted up too much, sometimes Miss Truncheon would give him an enema...oh, that was horrific...but it made him a better man. Even when Ev was a big boy of twelve or fourteen, Miss Truncheon supervised his television time, and made him go to bed at seven-thirty each night. Even after Everett became a junior varsity quarterback, he couldn’t celebrate the games he won with the fellows at a bowling alley, and of course parties were verboten. In bed, seven-thirty sharp.

When Everett was asked out by Cheryl Willis, the head cheerleader, to go to the movies, Miss Truncheon had accompanied them, and the next time Ev had wanted to go with her, Miss Truncheon had told him he wasn’t ready for dating. Everett had thrown a fit, and Miss Truncheon had stripped Ev, whipping him with a soaking hickory branch, and made Everett parade up and down his driveway in a frilly white dress and patent leather shoes. Cheryl had driven by with a group of girls that afternoon—Miss Truncheon called her, Everett suspected, but that couldn’t be so—and after she’d seen Ev in his pretty outfit, there were no more requests for dates, Everett was the laughing stock of Aaron Burr Junior High…he’d hated Miss Truncheon, but only for a brief period…she allowed no pouting or anger.

Miss Truncheon had also had a very strict policy towards “self-abuse” and after she’d caught Everett masturbating, she’d made him stand in the corner with a pink ribbon tied to this tip of his penis, which just poked out of a pair of adult diapers. Miss Truncheon had then invited Cheryl and Cheryl’s best friend Lana to come over and help with some ironing. “Just ignore that bad boy, girls…” Miss Truncheon said, as the girls stared at the captain of the football and wrestling teams at Burr Jr. High. “He can’t stop wiggling his wee-wee…so I’m making him more aware of his shame.” After this experience, Everett resigned sports and ran home every day at three sharp, to avoid the taunts of the story, which had just gotten around. “I am so glad you stopped all that nonsense, Everett…now we can work on Latin lessons together.” And it’s true, Everett’s grades went up sharply after this.

And then Miss Truncheon was very comforting, in her way. She'd prepare his bath, and bathe Everett, up until he went off to military school at thirteen...he always had dinner with her in the kitchen...Everett's mother was dead and his father away most of the time, and until he'd gone off to school at fifteen, Miss Truncheon had been it...when he'd come home that first vacation, and she was gone, off to look after a new charge, there was a hole in Everett's soul. "You're a big boy now." his father had said, ruffling his hair. "Be tough. No one respects a sissy." Everett had done it--highest ranked cadet at West Point, medals for valor in Vietnam, a distinguished Foreign Service career, and now of course he was a ruthless business man...but it was tiring, being in charge all the damn time. Julie's blond hair stroked Everett's cheek, and he in took breath. His cock hardened to an intensity he'd never felt in her soft fingertips. Everett closed his eyes, and then opened them suddenly, there was intense pain on his chest. In astonishment, he found clothespins on his nipples.

Chapter Three

Julie carefully pushed her spike heel into the tip of Everett's dick...not too painful, but somewhat. Everett was lying on his side on the kitchen floor, his dick sticking straight out in front of him, and Julie was giving it a poke or two...Everett had no discipline! You'd think he did, with all that training. It had been six months since Julie had tied Ev to the kitchen stool and teased his cock and tortured his nipples with clothespins. After a bit of this, she had untied Everett and taken off her clothes, and Everett, still sexually frustrated, had licked Julie to two orgasms, before she'd allowed him to stick his dick in her again. This nightly cunnilingus before sex had continued for a few weeks. Julie had begun demanding longer and longer lapping by Everett.

First there had been the "two orgasm rule" Everett would not be allowed to make love to Julie until he'd licked her to two orgasms. She had convinced Everett that she couldn't give him oral sex, because blowjobs were what whores gave, and Julie was a lady. (It was hard not to laugh telling him this, as she'd blown Fernando and his friends Carlos and Zeke the night before. "But I do like it when you lick me down there." she'd said to Everett demurely. "I can't make love to you, Everett, unless I'm very excited, and had at least two orgasms."

When Everett couldn't give her the second orgasm, he dressed and bowed and went home some nights, and others Julie would tie him spread eagled to the bed and play her nails across his throbbing erection as she whispered sweet recriminations in his ear..."Oh Everett, honey...don't you wish you could've worked harder down there? You could've squirted right in me...it would've been so nice...but now I'll just have to make you think." This spurred Everett to 'work harder' and eventually Julie increased the rule to a preliminary massage and three orgasms before Everett was allowed to mount, and after that four or five. Often Everett could barely move his jaw the next day, but he was game to try, and he knew if he didn't get through the five orgasms, that Julie would have to tie him up and make Ev wish he'd worked harder. In a sense, Everett enjoyed this, it was a challenge to get his reward...

Then one night, Julie had gotten her five orgasms, but told Everett that he would have to masturbate, as she was tired. Everett looked disappointed, but Julie had teased him a bit with her hand, and finally he'd plopped down on the floor on his knees and jerked off into a small bowl near the table, as to not stain Miss Julie's bedroom carpet. As Everett became more and more proficient in giving head, Julie told him that she was going to make screwing her more of a treat, and Everett began jerking off every other night that he satisfied Julie...and then every five nights.

This meant that he had to take Julie to five consecutive dinners, and then the massage and the hours of licking, before he got his lay...Everett wanted to see Julie more and more often, naturally, but she refused to see him more than three times a week. "A lady has to rest, you know." So this meant that Everett was getting to screw about once a fortnight, and jerk off four times in between. Soon Julie and Everett had a full routine--Everett would take Julie to dinner and a play, or a movie, and take her out for ice cream, and more often than once in a while, they'd wander over to Tiffany's or some nice clothing store, and he'd get her little gifts.

Once home, Julie would remain dressed, and Everett would be tied to the bed, and Julie would stroke Everett's cock for about an hour, scraping her long nails up and and around his shaft until Everett was hissing through his teeth. Unlike her other submissives, Everett was too stoic to whine and cry over his desperation to cum...he'd been torture in Vietnam, and refused to give secrets...but it was a challenge... Julie would go on til Ev was humping her hand, before untying him and getting her massage, and hours of oral sex...then Julie would tie Everett again, and tease him a bit more, before allowing him to jerk off into a bowl. Sex was on special occasions like Valentine's Day,and perhaps Everett's birthday.

Then one night, when it was about time for Everett to get his masturbation time, Julie looked at him. There was no excuse not to let Everett jerk off, he’d taken her to Morton’s, then dancing, they’d gone on a helicopter ride that weekend…but she didn’t feel he needed relief. Even if he had treated Julie to a spectacular massage and an intense six orgasms…how would she breach it? “Everett, I want to test your strength…why don’t you not jerk off tonight…? Show me, for once, that you can just give ME a great night…do you think you’re up to it?” There had been few tests, academic, athletic or military, that Everett had not been able to pass, and he’d manfully dropped his cock, and lay down behind Julie’s beautiful naked body to sleep. She had immediately spooned him, her full buttocks rubbing sensually against his near bursting penis, but they’d finally gone peacefully to sleep. Julie had awakened Everett in the morning, by twiddling his cock with a fingernail, but when he’d reached down to grab it, she’d slapped his face, hard, and said “Did I give you permission, you bad boy?”

After this, Everett had had to do lots of different things in order to impress Julie…and then she would allow him to jerk off…or she’d play her toes around his cock til he spurted, and then cleaned her foot off…or once in a blue moon, Everett would get laid. Julie instructed Everett…she let him screw her when he’d given her a platinum card on his account, spent the day helping her move, and taken her skiing. Supervised masturbation was a privilege for things like watching Everett do fifty jumping jacks AFTER he’d massaged and licked Julie to her five orgasms. Sometimes she’d ask him to wash her car, or jerk off in front of an open window. One day she’d said to Everett, without smiling. “Tonight if you want to squirt that wee-wee of yours, you’ll do it in front of my boyfriend.” And Everett had knelt in front of the type of kid he’d always despised, a long haired punk in baggy pants with a pierced lip…the kid sat next to Julie, who was stunning as always in her denim jumper. Naked, Everett had rubbed his fingers up and down his penis…now and then, the boyfriend, Slim, would tell him “slow down, old man, do you have to cum this minute” and then Julie would order Ev to put his hands behind his back and wait til she let him jerk it again…but it had been a wonderfully humiliating and satisfying orgasm when Everett had finally gotten release.

At some point, though, Julie noticed that sometimes Everett was not as excited as others...when she was teasing him. It turned out that Everett had been masturbating at home. This had to stop. Julie made Everett promise that he could only cum with her permission. This made her giggle, having the guy promise Julie this. A few months before, he'd been footloose and fancy free. Everett was not a freak like some of the guys who paid Julie; he'd been quite the cocksman around town with a variety of cuties, younger and often prettier than Julie herself...and now he was giving Julie gifts of jewels and money, seeing Julie exclusively...and promising not to even jerk off when he was away from her...and of course Julie had lots of boyfriends! But now and then Everett gave in to his baser desires as he did tongiht, when Julie realized he'd jerked off once again...she had Ev bound, with his penis under her heel, and she was confronting him.

"What's the deal, Everett?" Julie pushed her spike heel deeper into Everett's glans. “Why can’t you control yourself.?” It was funny, Julie thought, stifling a giggle…when she met Everett, he was the man about town, squiring around models ten to fifteen years younger than she was…no one in the world would tell him what to do…and now she had him completely faithful, giving her all sorts of dinner and gifts…he hadn’t fucked her in five weeks, and hadn’t cum in two! And here he was naked, on his side, with her heel poked into the tip of his cock. Julie stamped it a few times, treating the cock as if it were a lit cigarette she was trying to stamp out. In spite of Everett having jerked off in her bathroom that afternoon—she’d found the sticky Kleenex, and also in spite of the fact that the heel was quite painful…Everett’s cock was bulging, stiff, and slick with pre-ejaculate. “Everett, I’m disappointed in you. You’ve been a military school boy, an Eagle Scout, a colonel in the Army…you can’t keep your word?”

Everett spoke slowly, his head lying on the linoleum of the kitchen floor. He spoke evenly as if he was unaware that a beautiful blond woman in a white angora sweater and leather miniskirt was dancing up and down on his dick with her heel. “Miss Julie…I try..but it’s been ten days since I had an orgasm, ma’am…You tease me constantly, rubbing up and down on my penis—don’t think I don’t enjoy it, but it’s so pressurizing…and then when we’re not together, you call me constantly at work and at home, telling me all these…THINGS.” Ev was too well bred to go into detail. Julie giggled again, and pushed her heel deeper into Everett’s glans. It was true, Julie was constantly calling Everett on the phone and telling him about how she’d shaved her pussy the night before…and how one or two of her boyfriends had come over and screwed her…and she’d go on and on about the blowjobs she’d given them…Everett had to understand she saw other people, and this was her way of being honest with him. Of course she could hear the haggard breathing on the other side of the line, and she’d go on about her hard nipples, and how she was fingering them right now…Ev was a a handsome, muscular bronzed man, with power…he was a black belt, and had been a trained boxer…but right now he looked as if he were a calf about to be slain.

“Everett, I’m so disappointed in you, honey. You have all these Silver Stars and Purple Hearts from being tortured in Vietnam and not releasing any information…and you can’t take a…” Julie’s voice went into little-girl mode “a little cutie-pie telling you about her little clitty.” Everett’s cock got harder under the heel. “Don’t’ you want to know how I feel? Do you have to jerk yourself like a little pervert? When I tell you about how wet I get, and how Sam and Jose fuck me hard…”
Everett closed his eyes and panted some more. Suddenly Julie put all her weight on the heel poking into Everett’s glans and he screamed, and the penis went soft. “Everett” Julie said regretfully…”I think it’s time we talked about stronger measures to keep you pure…have you ever heard of a chastity belt?”
END OF PART ONE
 
Stories of BDSM, bondage, whipping, chastity belts, erotic teasing and denial, female domination, male submission, female submission, etc.

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02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004 / 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004 /


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