The Cooch Girl

I take a drag of my cigarette, then slowly exhale. The smoke hangs heavy in the still, dry air. After a quick scan of the headlines across the newspaper, I look out over the brown, shriveled corn fields surrounding the lot and wonder if this damn drought and economic depression will ever end so I can go back to a normal life. I wonder if I’d even know what normal is again.

 

“Cleo!” Bambi sticks her head out the back flap of the tent. “Get a move-on, girlie! Jimmy’s gettin’ antsy and wants us girls out on the bally.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” I tell her. “I’m coming.” After taking one last drag, I toss what’s left of my cigarette in the dirt and grind it out. I leave the paper on a table, then turn and slip into the tent. I pause long enough in the dressing area to check my make-up and costume.

 

I can hear Jimmy barking directions out front and I grimace. He’s always like this the first show after a set-up in a new town. It’s not like we don’t know the routine. I climb the steps to the inside stage and step through the curtains to the outside bally platform. It’s hot even with the sun beginning to sink beneath the horizon. Dust clings to the clear light bulbs strung high across the front of the platform.

 

“Ah, there you are, Cleo, darling,” he drawls and I’m not sure if he’s being sarcastic or not. He struts over to me and walks around me and arranges my skimpy, sequined belly dancing bra top over my ample breasts and chides, “Now, now, Cleo, you know better than showing off your gorgeous titties before the show.”

 

“Whatever, Jimmy,” I say and give a couple of hip tilts making the fringe on my skirt separate and expose my bare leg. “I thought you wanted to clean the midway.” I wink at Bambi over his shoulder and she giggles.

 

He shakes his head and then barks, “Alright ladies, to your places!”

 

There are six of us girls. We spread out on the platform. Bambi, in her short 1920's backless, beaded flapper dress and I in my skimpy Turkish belly dancer’s garb are in the middle, with Jimmy in his tuxedo between us at the microphone.

 

His voice, deep and resonating, booms over the midway and draws gawking rubes who start to gather in front of the bally. “Citizens of Goodwill, let me draw your attention to an array of lovely ladies whose mission it is today is to delight and amaze you with their many charms.” Jimmy turns and waves an arm in a gesture that encompasses us all and we dutifully smile and wiggle our bodies at the crowd.

 

I decide to break routine and start blowing kisses to the audience. I catch Jimmy’s eye and wink at him. He frowns at me but continues his spiel.

 

“Our sweet, little Bambi here will endear herself to you with her version of the Charleston, just wait until you see her swing!” Jimmy does a theatrical roll of his arm to introduce her. Bambi does an adorable little curtsey.

 

Then he walks up and down the line introducing all the girls and finally comes to me and says, 

“When our lovely Cleo performs inside our tent for you, you will be amazed and confounded at her ability to wiggle and shake!”

 

He turns to face the large crowd in front of the bally and booms in his mesmerizing deep voice, “That’s it girls. It’s show time! Take it back inside. Folks, buy your tickets here and over there, and follow the ladies to the tent. Go now!”

 

From the other side of the curtain, we can hear a scuffling of feet as the crowd shuffles toward the ticket sellers and we scramble to the vestibule that keeps us out of sight until it’s time for each of our acts. I’m last on the line up since Jimmy thinks I have the most enticing act and can generate the most interest in getting the crowd to pay for the blow-off acts.

 

Louise is first. Her stage name is Lotus Flower and I watch her through a crack in the curtains. She’s dressed as a Geisha girl and is swaying to an oriental tune. She slowly opens her kimono and the men start hooting and hollering. With a teasing look, she closes it and gets shouts of “NO!” and “Take it off, baby!” After a series of false starts, Louise sheds the kimono and is down to just a g-string and heels. While she does a shimmy and her breasts are bouncing all over the place, Jimmy pipes in with an insinuation there could be more to see in the after show blow-off.

 

In the middle of the third act, Jimmy breaks in to remind the crowd that touching the dancers is off limits and the next time someone tries, the show is over and there would be no refunds.

 

Bambi comes up beside me and peeks through the curtain.

 

“The rubes are a rowdy bunch tonight,” she says and I can hear the concern in her voice.

 

“Yeah,” I concur, “but you can bet Jimmy and the boys are on top of it. You know how protective he is of us.

Bambi wraps her arms around my waist and rests her chin on my shoulder. She whispers, “Maybe so, but I don’t think I want to turn any tricks with this crowd. I’m not even sure I want to do the blow-off.”

 

I secretly agree with her, but money is money and I want to make as much as I can while I can.

 

“That’s up to you, honey,” I tell her, “but you better square it with Jimmy before he makes appointments for you.”

 

I cast my gaze over the crowd. Dozens of thin, dried-up farmers dressed in dirty shirts and overalls crowd around the stage gawking at semi-nude women. Their faces are like weather worn leather--- parched and cracked. Only their eyes dance with an excitement I doubt they’ve felt in long, long time, living as they do, in this withered, god-forsaken place in Oklahoma.

 

The record player starts playing the Charleston. “Sugar,” I tell Bambi, “you’re up.” I turn and give her a hug and a gentle shove towards the stage entrance. “It’ll be fine.” To myself, I say, I hope.

 

Jimmy’s baritone introduces Bambi and she skips onto the stage smiling. Her routine is exaggerated and she flounces over the stage with wide kicks and bouncing breasts. When she unfastens her dress and tosses it aside, the crowd roars in approval. Then she squats and does that knee wagging, hands crossing Charleston thing. The crowd pushes closer to the stage.

 

The natives are restless. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I can tell Jimmy senses it too because I see him signal to a couple of the boys---big, muscular men who keep things orderly---and they move in front of the stage with their baseball bats at the ready. This crowd could turn ugly and I have yet to do my act.

 

I’m waiting at the side of the stage when Bambi comes scurrying off. She’s wide-eyed and pale. “Oh, shit,” she gasps. “I thought they were going to rush the stage, Cleo.” Her voice quivers.

 

I give her a hug and say, “But they didn’t, did they? Jimmy’s on top of it, like always.”

 

I let go of her and step toward the stage. She grabs my arm and looks at me with a desperate, wild look in her eyes. “Don’t,” she says, “don’t go out there.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” I tell her and gently remove her hand. She’s left red marks on my forearm.

 

Just when I expect Jimmy to announce my act, I hear him talking to crowd.

 

“Now, gentlemen,” he says, “I’m going to have ask you to step back from the stage. Our little Cleo doesn’t like to be crowded while she performs and I know you want to see her wiggle and shake her exquisite feminine form for you.”

 

I peek through the curtain and see him striding back and forth across the stage. He’s puffed up and looks downright menacing even as he smiles at the men. They’ve backed away from the stage. The boys and their bats have room to keep them at bay.

 

Jimmy continues to talk and the tension in the air dissipates then he cues the music. I smile. Good ol’ Jimmy, he’s giving the masses a breather to calm down.

 

“And now,” he booms, “heeeeere’s Cleo!”

 

I enter the stage on my tip toes and begin to belly dance in time with the music. The farmers start clapping and whistling. My hips shimmy and vibrate as I snake my arms across my chest, then up and down and out to the sides. I turn around and do hip drops—swinging my hips back and forth in rapid succession. Shouts of “Oh yeah!” and “Shake that ass, sweetheart!” ring out from the crowd. My abdomen undulates as I tiptoe forwards and backwards on the st

age. I do hip thrusts as I unfasten my bra top and then do shoulder dips after my breasts are freed. There are more wolf whistles and guffaws. When I turn around and shimmy my hips someone yells, “Oh fuck, I want a piece of that ass!” For a few more minutes I jiggle and wiggle all the while keeping a close watch on the cheering crowd. They’ve inched closer. When the music ends, I give the audience a wave and a smile and run back behind the curtain.

 

Jimmy is giving the after show spiel for the blow-off. “As I mentioned earlier, gentlemen, some of the ladies have an encore but as it isn’t part of the regular show, there’s an additional charge if you’re prepared to indulge yourselves.”

 

There are some loud complaints, and then Jimmy says, “I know, I know. I completely understand, but you kind gentlemen must agree, these ladies are certainly worth the price. It’s a mere dollar for the sight of a lifetime!”

 

Bambi comes over to me with a wide-eyed look of surprise on her face. I smile and nod. “See, I told you Jimmy’s looking out for us.” I hide my own surprise. Jimmy has doubled the usual ding fee. 

“He’s thinning the crowd out, because he knows most won’t pay that much,” I tell her.

 

“I’ve got to get ready,” I say and start back toward the dressing area, then pause and look back at her. 

“You don’t have to, you know. Jimmy will understand. Especially with this crowd.”

 

She nods, but I have no idea what she’d decided as I hurry off.

 

By the time I get back to the stage area, wearing a short, see-through wrap, the boys have collected the ding money and cleared the non-payers out of the tent. Three of the other girls are also dressed like I am. Bambi isn’t. I peek out front. The crowd has been reduced to about a quarter as many.

 

When Jimmy asks, “Who’s working after the show?” I turn around and say,”I am.” Three of the other girls also confirm they are, but Bambi isn’t one of them. I don’t blame her.

 

“Okay,” he says. “We’re going to do the blow a little different tonight. I don’t want you all out there at once. Improvise your routines. Utilize the snorting pole. Tease the bastards, but stay away from the edge. Louise, you’re up. I’ll cue you when to come in and when you’re done.”

 

He walks out to the front and cues the music and then Louise. I don’t watch.

 

The sounds of the midway filter through the tent and I can hear the sounds of the carnival: the organ music of the carousel; the squeals of children; the call of talkers; laughter. It occurs to me that I can’t remember the last time I actually laughed with sheer amusement.

 

“For our finale, I present to you, Cleoooooo!” Jimmy introduces me and I shake off my reverie and run out onto the stage. I flutter my wrap and let the audience see I’m butt naked under it. They clap and hoot. I do some acrobatics, cartwheels, splits, showing the men what they paid extra to see: my cooch in all it’s bushy glory. I do high kicks holding on to the snorting pole. My grand finale, though, is when I lay on my back, spread my legs and raise my hips directly in front of the audience. I wait and then squeeze my pelvic muscles and shoot a ping pong ball at the stunned men. I leap to my feet and dash off stage.

 

There is a hush, and then I hear: “Holy shit.” “How’s that even possible?” “Fuck.”

 

I’m in the dressing area sittin at a vanity and touching up my make up when Jimmy comes in. He puts his hand on my shoulder and meets my eyes in the mirror.

 

“Some show,” he says.

 

“Yeah,” Still meeting his eyes in the mirror, I ask, “So, how many you have lined up for me?”

 

“Six.”

 

I nod.

 

“I want Bull outside your tent. Just in case.”

 

“Fine.” I start to apply red lipstick.

 

“Cleo,” he says, but I interrupt him. “I know, Jimmy. I know.”

 

The cooch tent is in the livin’ lot, at the back of the carnival. Inside, there are six cubicles with a cot in them and a curtain across the makeshift doorways.

 

In front is a group of men milling around. They know why each of them are there for...waiting for their turn to fuck someone. They are antsy, and I assume most are already hard. I wonder how many of them have wives and family waiting for them somewhere on the midway, with no idea what their husbands and fathers are going to do.

 

The other girls and I slip in the back way, unobserved while Jimmy and Bull, the biggest and brawniest of the boys, go to the front. Jimmy sorts out who’s going to which girl and escorts them inside. It’s not long before the sounds of grunts and exaggerated moans can be heard and one by one, men leave in a hurry with their hats pull low over their faces.

 

The last man I see is a scrawny, ugly one with three missing front teeth and pig-like eyes.

 

I hand him a condom and he gives me an odd look.

 

“I ain’t wearing no rubber to fuck a whore,” he says.

I look at him and shrug. “It makes no mind to me if you fuck me or not. You’ve already paid. But you aren’t fucking me without one.

He spits on the ground. “I done tol’ you. I ain’t gonna do it.”

 

“Fine,” I say, “I’ll just call Bull in here, and he’ll toss your ass out like the trash you are.” I smile, but I don’t feel it reach my eyes.

 

His eyes narrow and he swears a string of vulgarities that in my other life would have made me blush. 

Now, I just look at him and wait.

 

“You fuckin’ bitch.” He slides his overall straps off his shoulders and fumbles putting the condom on a penis that is as scrawny as he is.

 

While he grunts and pokes me with his pencil dick and I pretend to enjoy it, an unexpected tear trickles down my cheek and I wonder when this became normal.

© October 2, 2012 All Rights Reserved 

Newly Caged

Newly Caged

The cold metal sheathing my cock is cold., damn near freezing in fact and goose bumps breakout along my heated skin. I shiver. But is it the cold or fact that in a few seconds I'll be securing this device on for God knows how long. It's what my Mistress wants, but now that I feel the cold steel around my cock, I'm not so sure it's what I really want.

 

 I snap the brass lock closed. Oh shit. The soft click sounds like thunder in my ears. I glance up at Mistress and shiver again. The look in her eye is devious and I know it well. She uses that look whenever I've succumbed to her desires. When I've done something I thought I would never, ever give in to. Like this. Giving her complete and utter control of my cock, my pleasure, my orgasms.

“Go on,” she says softly, “finish the task.”

I close my eyes for a brief second. “Yes, Mistress.” I pick up one of the only two keys that will open the lock and place one on a silver chain, then rise to my feet and walk over to her. With a bow, I ask, “May I gift you with the key to my chastity, Mistress?” I am ashamed to hear the quiver in my voice.

She reaches out with her hands. I had painted her nails a deep blood red hours ago and as she closes her fingers around my caged cock and balls, they gleam in the ray of sunshine flowing through the window. She uses the nail on her index finger and scrapes the flesh of my cock through the steel bars of the device. I feel my cock twitch involuntarily. and she chuckles. Oh fuck. This is really happening. I've surrendered my manhood to the woman I adore.

“You may,” she says as she gives my balls a hard squeeze and elicits a groan of desire from me.

With trembling fingers, I fumble with the clasp on the necklace as I put the chain around her neck. I step back and look at Mistress. The key is resting in the valley between her breasts and the alluring sight make my heart and cock leap. Oh God. Is this what it's going to be like from now on? Will every little thing remind me of my impotency now?

“My chastity is yours, Mistress.” I say over the lump in my throat.

“Not quite,” she says. That devious smile that I both love and fear is back. “Do it. Now!”

“Yes, Mistress, right away.” I can barely get the words out above a whisper. I turn to the table and pick up the spare key and walk into the kitchen, conscious that Mistress is following behind me. The cage is heavy feeling and unwieldy.I move to the sink. I glance at her. She's leaning against the door jam with her arms crossed. The look in her eye is almost a dare. This is it. My moment of truth. Am I man enough to go through with this? Will I cave in and beg her to reconsider? My cock is throbbing now. The excitement of being caged has caused it to swell and strain against the bars. Is this the way it's going to be from now on? Dare I do what's being demanded of me? Dare I not do it? Mistress said the decision was mine. She would retaliate if I declined, she said. But ultimately the decision was mine. I know it's what she wants. But do I really want this too?

“What are you waiting for slut?” she taunts. “Don't you trust me to know what's best for my possession?

 

Fuck it. There is no out for me. I'm hers. Completely. I drop the key down the sink and into the garbage disposal. I can't control the slight tremble in my hands as I turn on the water and the switch to the disposal simultaneously. I cringe at the horrific grating and grinding sounds coming from the bowels of the sink as I count out the requisite five seconds before turning off the switch.

I glance again at Mistress as I reach into the drain to retrieve the key. She is beaming. Her white teeth gleam against the red of her lips. I pull out the the mangled key and hold it up. The grooves, hills and valleys that operate the locking mechanism have been gnawed so the key is barely recognizable as such. There is no way in hell it will ever open my lock.

Mistress claps her hands and jumps up and down. “Good boy!” she declares and I feel myself succumb even more. Oh God. When she calls me that I would literally do anything she wanted of me. Anything.

“Get dressed, slut,” she says, “we are going shopping.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I respond. “Shall I wear anything in particular?”

“Mmmm, your black panties.”

I smile. “Yes, Mistress.” I hurry to my room and pause in front of the full length mirror mounted on the closet door. I stare at my reflection for a moment. The “Jailbird” gleams in the sunbeam streaming in from the window. My cock twitches. This is exciting, I decide. And frightening. It wasn't as if Mistress had let me cum recently either so I feel a little desperate too. How long will I have to bear this? A day? A week? Longer? My cock twitches again straining against the weight of the metal. Shit. What have I done?

I walk over to my dresser and pull open my panty drawer. This is something else I gave in on. Wearing women's panties wasn't ever on my bucket list, yet all Mistress had to do was use her gentle persuasion and here I am; not only willing to wear them, but look forward to her command to put on a pair as I love the feeling of the string between my arse cheeks and the silkiness against my cock and balls. With a shake of my head, I pull out the black pair and step into them. I glance behind me at the mirror and smile at the reflection of my exposed bum.

I grab a black shirt out of the closet, a pair of matching black socks from the sock basket on top of the dresser and a pair of jeans from the bottom drawer. Mistress likes it when my shirt, panties and socks match.

Then I sit on the edge of the bed and dress. The device makes zipping my jeans a bit more difficult and another glance in the mirror reveals a much larger bulge than usual. I grimace. This is going to cause some unwanted gawking, I'm sure.

After dressing, I present myself to Mistress. Her eyes are drawn to my crotch as if she had been expecting a different look too. A smile spreads across her lips and her blue/gray eyes darken. It's a telltale sign she's excited too. She reaches out with a hand and fondles my crotch. I can feel the pressure of her hand against my caged cock and feel the way my cock tries to grow at her touch. Oh God. This is a new kind of torture! I let out a small moan.

She steps away and tosses me the car keys. “You drive.” She tosses me the keys to the “Mistress Mobile.” Then she heads to the garage door in the kitchen.

“Yes Mistress,” I say and follow behind her. The cage chafes a little against my jeans. So, a new sensation to get used to.

I step around the Mistress Mobile, a restored 1932 Ford Model A, and hold the door open for her. Mistress said it had been sitting in somebody's side yard rusting away and felt a need to buy it and have it returned to its former glory. I preferred to drive the Subaru as it is roomier inside, but Mistress uses the Model A when she combines a session with a routine outing, so I knew something other than a shopping trip was in store for me. My cock tries to stir inside its tight confines. I quiver with excitement.

“Where to, Mistress?” I ask after I squeezed in behind the wheel.

She reaches over and places her hand on my right thigh. “Adam and Eve's,” She responds.

I gulp. “Yes, Mistress.”

I back out of the garage and head down the street toward the highway. My mind is whirling. What does Mistress have planned now? I'm not going to catch a break. I had hoped I might have a chance to get used to the feel and fit of the Jailbird before I had to contend with outside forces.

Once we reach the shopping outlet where Adam and Eve's is located, I pull in to a spot close to the entrance, then get out and walk around the car to open Mistress's door. Before she gets out, she rakes her nails over my crotch. My cock tries to respond but can't. I'm starting to feel a constant ache come on. I groan.

She chuckles and takes my proffered hand and gracefully extracts herself from the car. The key to my lock flashes in the sunlight, taunting me. My cock tries to harden again. It hasn't even been a few hours and already I'm feeling the strain of my decision to please Mistress. I groan inwardly.

Inside the store, a sexy young salesgirl I haven't seen before greets us. “Hello! My name is Desiree and if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask!” He exuberance kind of annoys me. I'm not wanting any added attention as I know Mistress is planning something. Something that I probably will find excruciatingly embarrassing.

“As a matter of fact,” Mistress says, “we'd like to see your sexiest g-strings. For both females and males.” She looks from Desiree to my crotch and I feel my face turn as red as Mistress's nails when the girl follows Mistress's gaze.

“I'm sure we can find something to suit you both,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. “Follow me!” She turns and leads us though an array of sexy nighties, bras and panties. I look at the panties hungrily. I've become such a panty slut and feel one can never have enough.

The girl stops at a wall display where g-stings are arranged. I cringe inwardly as I notice the girl eyeballing my crotch again and then reaches for one that is bright yellow with a large pouch. “This should fit him,” she tells Mistress. I flush deeper red since she is acting as if I don't have a say in the matter. Which I don't, but still...,.

“I like that style,” Mistress tells her, “but I prefer him in red. Does it come in red or black?”

“Yes!”

Again with the exuberance, I grumble inwardly. I try to ease backwards, but Mistress's hand snaps out grabs my arm, pulling me closer. Shit. Foiled again.

“Is there anything else you'd like to see before I go back to the stock room?” the girl asks.

“I think we will concentrate on Mark for the time being,” Mistress says. “Use your own judgment and pick out a few things you like for him to try on.”

“Right!” Desiree trills. “I'll be back in a heartbeat.”

“Take your time,” Mistress drawls. “We'll be in the toy section.”

Toy section? Oh God. Mistress is obsessed with her toys. I love them too, but its so unmanly to admit it. Especially since she prefers to use many of them on me. I follow slowly behind her. She heads straight to the anal toys. The array of plugs and dildos alone is alarming. She picks up an especially long thick glass one with raised red hearts around the sides and strokes it while I become mesmerized watching her. I try not to imagine it's my cock she's stroking as it's trying yet again to get hard. The pressure is becoming a constant ache. She's deliberately trying to get and keep me aroused while knowing full well I can't comply. I grit my teeth. An action that doesn't get past her observant eyes.

“Feeling frustrated, darling?” she asks with a wicked smile.

“As you well know, Mistress. Yes.” I can only hope this will be a short trial period. That the cage will come off in a few hours. I can hope, can't I? There is a refraction of light through the glass dildo that lands on the key at her cleavage. I feel a small sliver of relief that the only key left is still safe and sound.

Desiree comes back with a handful of g-strings. “I see you found the glass dildos,” she says. She hands me the g-strings and picks up another dildo close by. It is long and curved with blue waves that spiral around it and a rather large bulbous head . She strokes it lovingly and says,”This is called the Blue Wave and trust me, it gives some wild sensations.” She has a broad grin on her face as she fondles it while staring me in the eye. I can feel the color creep up my neck.

Mistress asks her a question and I am forced to stand by while they discuss the merits of the two dildos. When Mistress finally declares she can't decide between the two, so she will take both and then gives me a knowing look, I automatically clench my bum cheeks in an attempt to temper my growing excitement. I know she plans on using one or both on me later.

“Alright, Mark.” She turns to me with a sly smile and points to the g-stings dangling from my hand. “Time to try these on so we can see which ones will do you justice.”

I nod and murmur, “Yes, Mistress.” I hope my voice is low enough to reach only her ears. I follow along behind Mistress and Desiree like an obedient puppy. My neck feels like it is crimson in color. We stop at the dressing rooms and to my dismay, Mistress follows me inside. I hear a snicker come from the sales girl.

“I'll be right over here,” she says, “if you need anything, just holler,” then ambles to nearby table with an opened box nearby. She'd obviously been unpacking new merchandise when we arrived.

The changing cubicles are not intended for two occupants. I try to squeeze around Mistress only to be halted when she puts her hands on the fastening of my jeans. She places her palm squarely over my cock and presses. Hard. The metal of the zipper pinches my shaft against the metal of the cage as she pushes my cock firmly back between my legs. I try unsuccessfully to stifle groan. Knowing the sales girl is mere feet away both mortifies and excites me. So much so I can feel precum starting to trickle from my cock.

Mistress unfastens my jeans and jerks them down until they pool around my ankles. I stare helplessly at her as she fingers my cock through the fabric of my panties. She is sitting on the little bench and her face is level with my crotch and I can feel her warm breath against my inner thighs. When she glances up at me and our eyes meet, I whisper, “Please, Mistress,” but I am uncertain what it is I'm asking for.

In response, she pulls my panties down to my knees and lifts my caged cock with one hand and licks at my balls which are already full and starting to ache. My head falls backwards as another moan escapes me and when I hear the girl outside giggle I feel a rush of humiliation flood my body. I want to scratch my way out the back of the cubicle and run far away.

Mistress stands and hands me a shocking pink g-string and says, “Here. Try this on,” and squirms around me so I can sit down to remove my jeans and panties.

“Yes, Mistress,” I whisper, my voice sounding meek and unlike me. I slip my legs through the strings and pull it up. My cage is able to fit in the pouch but only barely. My balls dangle beneath it and the string along my bum crack is short and makes me acutely aware that is there. My excitement exceeds the humiliation I'm feeling. I'm feeling agitated. Horny. Desperate. I'm thinking about the dildos and how cool and smooth they will feel in my bum later. My cock is in a state of limbo. It can't get hard and all I want is to get some relief.

Before I realize what she's about to, Mistress swings open the dressing room door and calls out, Desiree! I need your opinion here!”

In an instant, Desiree appears with a huge smile on her face. “Oh My!” she exclaims as she scrutinizes my scanty attire. “The color isn't at all flattering is it? But I'm afraid you're going to have purchase it anyway.” She points and giggles.

I glance down and see what she's pointed at. There is a darkening stain forming where my precum has been leaking through. I'm not sure my face could be any redder, but I feel a new wave of heat rise and engulf my face.

Mistress smiles and rubs her hand over one of my bare bum cheeks. “No need to worry, Desiree. We were going to take the lot anyhow. Let's go ring them up now, while Mark gets dressed.” To me, she says, “Wear that home, darling.”

I am slow to dress. I really don't want to face Desiree again. When I do appear, Mistress is standing by entrance looking at a skimpy teddy outfit made of sheer black lace and I immediately picture her in. My mouth waters at thought of how her nipples would be teasingly poking though the lace and I would be begging for the opportunity to worship her and them.

When I reach her side, she hands me the shopping bag and it feels heavier than I think it should. I wonder for a moment if she's added to her purchases while I was getting dressed. I hold the door open for her and as we exit, Desiree calls out, “Enjoy! And please come again!” I cringe when Mistress replies, “You can count on us being regular customers.” She knows how I love the feel of sensual fabrics on her and me, but that I loathe the process of picking them out.

On the short drive home, I'm feeling more of the effects of my new cage. It feels many sizes too small now and my balls are being squashed by the weight of it. I grimace as I wonder how long Mistress plans to keep me in this thing. There is a little voice in my head that keeps trying to reassure me; this is what you wanted. You wanted to make Mistress happy. You wanted to please her. You wanted Mistress to have complete and total control of your cock, your mind, your body. This way she does.

 

Once home, and the Mistress Mobile is safely back in her spot in the garage, and I open Mistress's door, she says, “Meet me in the playroom. Be naked.”

Any doubts I had before vanish now. I love it when Mistress uses me for her pleasure as I derive my own pleasure from it as well. “Yes, Mistress,” I say following behind her.

A short time later I am waiting for Mistress in the playroom. Originally, the room had been intended for use as a home theater so it was spacious, and soundproof. Over the years, Mistress has acquired a wide range of dungeon furniture and implements of discipline and pleasure. We often host play parties with some of Mistress's closest kinky friends.

I stand in the center of the room and look around as I wait for Mistress. Near the West wall is one of the pedestal tables; it's waist high and wide enough for me bend over and keep my torso supported, while the sides have a series of eye bolts that Mistress can secure me to in various ways.

The East wall hosts an elaborate sliding setup with chains and pulleys and heavy duty hoists. I find it hard to focus on anyone aspect of the play room because my excitement level continues to rise. I will Mistress to hurry as I feel a rising sense of urgency for something, anything, to happen. It feels as if my libido has skyrocketed to the moon ever since the snap of the lock on my chastity device closed hours earlier. My mind aches for an erection. My body craves one. Yet, I have no idea when I will be privy to that pleasure again.

So absorbed with my thoughts I don't notice Mistress's arrival until I feel the sting of her palm against my bum. I yelp in surprise, then recover quickly, drop to my knees assuming the position she taught me so long ago and say, “Mistress, I am your devoted and needy slut and am ready to serve you. Please use me as you desire.”

“Look at me, slut.” She commands.

“Yes, Mistress,” I say and let my gaze travel up the length of her by starting at her toes, polished a deep burgundy red, yet still visible under the silk stockings that clad her legs, to her trim ankles and along her calves. I long to wrap my arms around them and hug her tight. My gaze moves to her thigh and pauses briefly as I take in the pale skin that is exposed between stocking and hips. She's not wearing any panties and the urge to bury my face in the soft folds between her legs is nearly my undoing. I force my gaze to her face. Her expression is stern and I feel a touch of apprehension. Is she displeased with me?

“Stand up.”

I rise to my feet and place my hands behind my back. “Yes, Mistress.” The weight of my device is noticeable when I place my feet at shoulder's width. It hangs between my legs feeling like a ton of bricks.

Mistress grasps it in her warm hand. She pulls it one way and then another. I stifle the moan rising in my throat. This is her toy. She can treat it as she likes, I remind myself. “It looks good on you, pet,” she says softly. I can feel her soft fingertip moving back and forth between the narrow bars. The sensation is pleasurable but mostly frustrating. It's not enough stimulation to be arousing. And I want to be aroused. I want to get hard and come. I can feel the need in the way my inner thighs tighten and my balls fill with the need. I want to beg her to let me out. But I know I won't. Not yet.

“If you say so, Mistress,” I mutter between clenched teeth. Her response is to laugh at me and then slap my balls.

“There.” She says now, all business and points to the pedestal table on the West wall. She strolls to the cabinet that houses many of her restraints.

“Yes, Mistress,” I say and go to where I am told. I stand at the edge and face the table and wait until she gives me further instruction. I am not going to make any assumptions of what position she will want me in. My balls are still tingling from the slap she gave them for my insubordination.

When Mistress joins me, she is carrying cuffs, clips, and the new Blue Wave dildo. She hands me the dildo. “Bend over and don't drop it.”
 

I comply and whisper, “Yes, Mistress.” My insides are starting to quiver with excitement now. She's going to pussy fuck me and I can barely control my eagerness. I lay across the padded table top, with my hips just past the edge. I can feel Mistress placing the leather straps around my ankles and thighs and attach them one by one to the table. Then she moves to my wrists and secures them but doesn't take the dildo. She shuffles around and is standing behind me.

Suddenly, I feel her scrapping her nails on my back and bum cheeks. My skin flinches involuntarily as her nails rakes back and forth and crisscross. She drags her nails down my bum and to the tender flesh of my inner thighs. Scraping. Scraping. Scraping. My legs, slightly bent from the way she's secured them to the table start to quiver. My cock tries to to grow in it's confines and becomes painful as it is thwarted . I groan out, “oh fuck.”

My balls feel full and heavy, the sack is stretched taut. When Mistress grabs them and starts to scratch at them like an insistent dog wanting attention I let out a long drawn out moan. My back and bum tingle from her scratches. My balls get harder and tighter as my cock strains unsuccessfully against the cage. Oh God. I've never had such intense sensations course through me. I'm so fucking horny now that I can hardly stand it.

“You can let go.”

What? My mind races as I try to make sense of the words. Then I realize I'm gripping the dildo in death hold. “Yes, Mistress,” I gasp and release my hold on it so Mistress can take it.

Then I feel my bum cheeks being parted and the cold, slippery head of the dildo being rubbed back and forth against my bum hole as Mistress spreads the lube she's covered it in. My legs start to feel weak and I lean heavily on the table.

“Mmmmmm.” I murmur, “that feels so nice, Mistress.” I try to wiggle so that I can increase the sensations but Mistress has secured me so that I have very little room to move.

For what seems like an eternity, she continues to tease my pussy with the dildo by rubbing it and pushing the head ever slightly against the opening. My frustration level rises more and more until finally I whimper, “Please, Mistress.”

“Please what, Mark?” She asks and reached between my legs and squeezes my balls hard .

I let out a yelp but not sure if it's from pain, surprise or just frustration.

“Please fuck me, Mistress,” I plead. “Please, I can't stand it anymore.”

“So soon, you little slut?” She taunts me. “I've barely begun.”

“I'm weak, Mistress,” I beg. “I can't help it. I need you to fuck me.”

“Need, my ass,” she snorts while delicately probing my pussy with the tip of the dildo. It isn't enough to penetrate and my restraints prohibit me from thrusting backwards to force it inside me. “You want to be fucked.”

“Yes. Yes! Mistress. I want to be fucked. Please! Please fuck me!” I say, trying to convey my sense of urgency to her. If she denies me this, I think I would be reduced to tears at this point. My whole being feels as if my very sanity depends on her fucking now.

I turn my head and try to look at her over my shoulder. “Pleeeasse Mistress, I implore you. Please fuck me!”

I can't see her, but her answer is to thrust the dildo into my eager pussy. I let out a deep groan of contentment. “Thank you, Mistress.”

She begins to manipulate the dildo by swirling it around and plunging it to the left, right, top, and bottom. I'm frustrated that I can't thrust back at all and have to rely on her movements but grunt with pleasure anyway as she works the dildo. Desiree was right. The thing generates amazing sensations as the ripples moved against my sensitive nerve endings. My moans get louder as Mistress becomes more aggressive with her movements.

I can feel the wet stickiness of my precum run down my legs and I ache to cum so bad. My cock, heavy in the cage lurches with each thrust. “Oh Mistress,” I gasp, “this feels so good.”

For a response, she slows down her thrusts and rubs the head against my prostate. “OH FUCK!” I yelp both from surprise and the intense sensation as she massages my sweet spot. “Oh GOD, Mistress!”

“Mmmm, my little slut likes this doe he?” She croons as she manipulates the dildo back and forth.

“God yes, Mistress,” I grunt as I try to squirm to keep the head of the dildo on my prostate and getting more and more frustrated as she seems to know she's thwarting my efforts.“Please, please, please,” I beg. “I want to cum, Mistress. Please let me cum!”

She chuckles and slowly stills the dildo so that the only time it moves is when I clench my sphincter or my cock does a sudden lurch. I know I have my answer and despite my best effort I let forth with a long, drawn out wail.

Mistress pulls out the dildo and sets it aside, then proceeds to undo my restraints. She leads me to the “recovery” settee and cradles me in her arms. “No cumming for you, pet. You only just got the device put on.” She strokes my hair, my cheek, hugging me close to her.

Her touch comforts me, but just. I think back to earlier and recall all the thoughts that ran through my mind. This is what she wanted. What she wants matters more than my wants or needs. I shudder and turn to bury my face in her breasts and nuzzle between them. Then I get an odd feeling. Something isn't right. I pull my head back and look at her. A feeling of dread fills me when I realize what is missing.

“Mistress,” I say, “Where is the key?”

She looks surprised and reaches for her neck. “Oh,” she says. “I must have lost while we were shopping!”

I look at her in disbelief. This can't be happening. This can't be the rest of my life. Or can it?

 

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